


under the milky way

by thecluelessphilosopher



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Author! Natasha Pitch, High School AU, M/M, Mystery, Political Intrigue, Simon Adopted by The Bunces, Space Nerd! Simon, Writer! Baz, based in America, mild homophobia, some internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecluelessphilosopher/pseuds/thecluelessphilosopher
Summary: Simon Snow Salisbury and Baz Grimm-Pitch attend Watford Highschool in the small town of Watford. Simon loves his adopted sister Penelope Bunce, his mom’s library, and space. Baz dreams of being a novelist like his mother, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the unpublished former town sweetheart. After an incident involving a pride pin and a homophobic teacher, the two of come to an unsteady truce and work together to preserve the legacy of Natasha Pitch, and to make their own legacies.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76
Collections: Carry On Big Bang 2020





	1. Welcome to under the milky way!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing art here was made by [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! I was so excited to be paired with him for this project, I’ve always admired his art and I was so honored to work with him. Thank you so much for putting up with my procrastination and disorganization, Alexander! 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) and check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) for more Simon and Baz trash. Hope you enjoy!


	2. WILDFLOWERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgy and Quirky Simon sits on a roof, Baz has had enough. Math is stupid and so is violation of the first amendment, on the bright side wildflowers are pretty (and also dramatic).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first chapter! Art for this fic was made by the incredible [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! I was so excited to be paired with him for this project. 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) to jam along with Simon and Baz. 
> 
> Check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) Hope you enjoy!

**SIMON**

I have always been too  _ much,  _ always on the verge of explosion, always too heavy, rooted to the ground. As I sit on the roof outside my bedroom, something about the clear sky, makes me feel like maybe, if I reached out far enough, I could touch the stars. 

Penny says I’m overdramatic when I talk about how cathartic it feels to look at the stars. I just think she’s never felt what it's like to wish you could leave your body. She’s already a star, why would she feel the need to dance among them?

I hear the beginnings of a ruckus start to take form as my family starts to prepare dinner and I resolve to be responsible and go help. Before however, I can carry out my plan, Penny sticks her head out the window of my bedroom. 

“Simon!” she scolds, her cat-like glasses only bolstering my theory that she’s secretly an old librarian stuck in a sixteen-year-old’s body “you’re gonna fall off the roof one of these days!”

She does a dramatic exasperated sigh and runs her hand through her hair. I smile at her and hold my hand out for her to help me through the window. 

“Danger doesn’t stop you from sitting up here with Micah when he sneaks through your window,” I say matter-of-factly with a wink. 

She glares at me and digs her fingers into my hand as she leads me downstairs with a huff. 

I often feel like there are people, like Penny, who can walk down the street, without feeling like their shoelaces are tied together. People who speak without feeling like they’re talking in a language they don’t yet understand. Then there’s me, just stuck stuck stuck, either lugging my body through a series of unnatural motions or standing still while people like Penny, and even Baz glide through life, wind in their hair.

“Simon, will you lay the table?” Says Mitali without looking up from the work on the kitchen table as Martin takes the food off the stove. She moves her papers to the side of the table to make room for us to eat. 

“You got it, man,” a raised eyebrow “mother the gracious and merciful,” I add. 

“Mmmhmm”

I hurriedly grab the silverware from the kitchen cabinet and start laying the table as Mitali takes off her reading glasses and makes her way over to the kitchen. 

“Premal called today,” she says with a clench in her jaw. 

“I see,” is all Martin says..

Premal hasn’t been home for a couple of years, he graduated high school to go to college in New York and intern with the very companies Martin has been trying to hold accountable for years. He’s a lawyer, and though I’m not sure what exactly that means in terms of the work he actually does, I do know that Martin was ecstatic when Premal decided to go to law school. Less so, when he started doing corporate law. 

It hit Mitali hard, they'd never had the most stable relationship, they’ve always been too similar, stubborn, determined, and incredibly prideful, I suppose it runs in the family, but they had an understanding. They had a relationship that the rest of us could never understand. Then, he packed his bags and never looked back. Those two, like Penny, are stars. 

Once, my mother told me that if I looked hard enough, I could see the constellations in my freckles, around the time I first moved in with the Bunces. I liked the idea that maybe I could be something bigger than myself and bigger than this stupid plain world. Maybe I could be a part of this complex system of glowing entities, each one more brilliant than the last, convalescing together into this tapestry of colors and feeling. 

It’s indescribable to look up into the universe and take in this beautiful  _ everything.  _ It’s pure adrenaline. It makes me feel alive. 

“He’s getting married,” says Mitali, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

Silence. So thick you couldn’t cut through it with a knife. 

“He’s nineteen,” My Dad says as if it somehow negates the previous statement. 

I wasn’t expecting this, and it paralyzes me. I’ve never been good in situations like this. 

When there’s no set etiquette for what to say and do is like I’m drowning in the ocean, my lungs filling with water when I try to talk. 

None of us are used to this, to be honest. Our family is all impassioned arguments and slammed doors. 

I have always been interested in space. Always meaning since seventh grade when I learned about astronomy. I felt like this world had opened up, more so like my brain had exploded into a sea of color and wonder. My own personal big bang. I’ve always thought I’m too small for my emotions. Everything in my life is loud, blood pounding in my ears. I don’t get the freedom of silence or noise, I exist in the in-between.

But Premal leaving did something weird, suddenly, it's like everyone’s afraid that if they yell too loud or have opinions too big, Mitali might break. 

Penny snaps the attention in the room back to herself as she flops unceremoniously into her chair and attempts to change the conversation.

“So, Pacey, how are you feeling about first grade?” she says in a delicate, very un-penny-like manner. 

We all let out a collective breath a few moments later when the dining room is filled with people fighting for time to speak once again. Soon enough, the Bunce house is filled with laughter and passionate rants. Like a big bang, there’s quiet until there isn’t. 

I imagine  _ the  _ big bang to be an infinite amount of worlds and an infinite amount of stars all coming together and colliding with no restraint together until suddenly there could be harmony and all I can think is  _ beautiful chaos. _ Like my family, except I’m always on the outside.  __

I feel like I’m always about to do something amazing but never quite there. I’m always almost the best at something. I’m always on the verge of something, always on the brink of something. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump but I can never figure out what I am jumping towards or how I am supposed to jump. 

I just have so much inside of me and it’s building building building. 

**BAZ**

“So, Basilton, are you excited for school to start?” asks Daphne in a vain attempt to cut through the deafening silence. 

I say nothing, I’m waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Answer the question Basilton,” says Father, sighing. 

I resign to silence because when people say ‘it's over when you stop fighting’, I find the opposite is true, between me and Father, it's over when we give in. We stopped fighting with words so long ago, we’ve forgotten how to properly, so this is how we fight now. Both of us refusing to give each other or ourselves an inch. Maybe that just means it was over a long time ago. 

“Yes, I’m excited to see Dev and Niall again,” I say even though it sounds like  _ goodbye  _ in my voice. I push my chair back and march up the stairs to my bedroom. If they're asking me to come back, I don’t hear it over my own heartbeat. 

If that’s how he wants this to be, this is how it’ll be. 

I have always felt more at home in the worlds I built for myself than the one I was born into. I like to think that my mother felt the same way. I still can vaguely recall sitting and watching her with awe as she scribbled ideas for novels in a notebook. She always carried around a brown leather Moleskine and was constantly writing in it. 

I always wanted to know what was going on in her head, though I could never find where she kept the notebook. I think she was one of those people whose brain worked a mile a minute in such a way that no one could ever keep up with her. People used to tell me she was like a river rushing towards the ocean and the rest of us were following her in a wooden boat. 

I fucking miss her. I guess it's weird to miss someone I barely ever knew but I can’t help it. All I’ve ever wanted is to make her proud. I wonder how she’d feel about her disappointing gay son. The same way my father feels?

Natasha Pitch was an enigma in Watford, she was the daughter of the entire town. I want to live in her world and feel what she felt. 

I hear the tentative footsteps walking up the stairs before I hear the voice they belong to. 

“Basilton, your father is requesting your presence downstairs,” says Vera with a hint of pity in her voice. 

“Very well, I’ll be down in a moment,” I respond, just now realizing that I have been on the verge of tears. Pitches don’t fucking cry.

I make my way to my bathroom to wash my face and head downstairs towards my father’s study. 

“Basilton -'' he starts, I don’t let him finish. I've heard my name said like that too many times tonight like it's a burden. 

“No, Father, listen to me now. I’m...gay,” I say, trying my best to be confident. 

“No it's not a phase, no I don’t care what people think, yes I am sure, no I’m not going to be waving a rainbow flag at Pride anytime soon. Although if I was planning to do that, I’d expect your support. But you know what? I am sick and tired of my name being spat at me like it's a burden. It's been two weeks of this  _ silence  _ and I’m done. I’ve always known who I am and this is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

I wait. Father says nothing, he just gestures for me to leave his study. I do. 

My mother seemed like a free spirit, I always found myself wondering why she ever married my dad. Everything with him is heavy with obligation and tradition. All I really want is authenticity, I wanted something to feel real. To feel right. To feel true. 

Nothing in Father’s world has ever felt like that. I was born onto a stage in which I am forced to play a part I had never wanted to be cast into. It's all fake cardboard trees and secret lights manipulating the mood and unspoken cues and truths lying below the surface. Malcolm Grimm is the mayor of Watford, a powerful politician. And I, Basilton Grimm-Pitch am have been forced to play his (gay) son. 

I have always been unapologetically myself, to the point where my father just had to accept it, mostly to avoid the scandal. I know what I want from life, it's not Watford, it's not economics, it’s writing. I have always known who I am, and he's tired of people trying to tell him who that is. 

**SIMON**

I wake up and the first day of school doesn’t feel like anything special this year. Usually, I have some sort of feeling about it. I'm either anxious to go back or excited to see all my friends again, but this year I don’t really feel anything towards it.

Once I’m changed and I’ve eaten breakfast, Penny and I set out on our adventure to drop our siblings at various locations. We step out the door, Pip on Penny’s hip, Pacey holding my hand and Priya standing to my left. I holler a “see you soon” to Martin as Penny gives me an exasperated look. 

“People are gonna think we’re one of those unfortunate teen parents who can’t stop having kids. Or we’re orphaned and forced to take care of our starving family,” she complains. 

“Penelope, that sounds like an excellent novel, you’re writing,” I say taking the lead ahead of her trying to avoid a conversation with six-year-old Pacey about what a “teen parent” is. 

We walk down the street towards the pre-school and make small talk with our siblings about the upcoming school year. 

“What’s the hardest thing about high school” inquires Priya. 

“Getting any work done with four children running around making a ruckus at all hours of the night,” drawls Penelope. 

“Penny, they’re only three of us,” says Priya.

“I was counting Simon,” she explains, flashing me a winning smile. 

“Oh shut up, Pen, and you wanna talk about a ruckus?” I challenge, wiggling my eyebrows.

A blush settles on her cheeks as she attempts to subtly flip me off. 

“What if I don’t make any friends,” asks Pacey shyly and quietly enough that I almost don’t hear him as we approach her school. 

“Well Pacey, it's simple as long as you are friendly and nice...” I cut myself off as I notice Baz Pitch standing no more than a few meters ahead of me with his younger sister Mordelia, seemingly dropping off his younger sisters Octavia and Acantha at pre-school, I think they’re around Pips’s age. 

“Fuck” I whisper under my breath. 

“FUCK!” says Pip, repeating my words “ah shit,” I say as Penny gives me a livid look. 

“Shit!” Pip repeats, a little quieter but with the same amount of enthusiasm. It seems to get Baz’s attention nonetheless for he turns around with a smirk and walks towards us. 

“Pip, let's have a little conversation about appropriate words,” Penny says, flustered as Baz approaches us. 

I’m dreading the interaction and the tete-tete that I will no doubt lose. I just get so...so...flustered about everything Baz says to me. Sometimes even just a look could make me fly off the handle. In truth, every interaction with Baz makes me feel more than I ever have. Like I’m about to explode. It's the worst kind of almost. 

“Hello Bunces,” says Baz nodding cordially towards Penny. He looks tired. 

“Snow,” he says, noticeably changing tone. He’s the only one who calls me Snow, I introduced myself with my full name the first time we met and I suppose he thought it was a stupid name, so he started using it. 

“You look like shit, Baz,” I say. I see a vulnerable expression flash over his face but it's gone before I can place it. In its place, a classic Baz sneer that makes my blood boil. 

“You’re one to talk, Snow, you lot look like the cast of a cautionary tale about tragedies of teen pregnancy,” Baz retorts walking away with a hair flip that would look stupid on anyone else but he some how pulls off. Damn he’s got great hair. 

“Told you,” says Penny, stunned, as if she’s figured something out. 

**BAZ**

The school year is always a welcome change from my...tumultuous home life. It's not that I hate my family, not at all. I enjoy my younger siblings, especially Mordelia, and Daphne is...pleasant. She knows she’s not my mother, and she doesn’t try to be. Her kindness and softness balance out my Father well. He’s stone-cold and unaffectionate. 

Like there’s a strain between us that was there long before he knew I’m gay. Every look is loaded with unsaid words to a song I’ve yet to learn. Like we’re speaking in a language I’m unfamiliar with. 

“Ba-az,” complains Mordelia.

“Don’t make that noise, Mordelia, it’s obnoxious” she kicks me in the leg. A Pitch by blood, Mordy fits in with Fiona and I a little too well. 

“Ah Mordelia, you little heathen,” I growl as I hear a little voice shout a chorus “Fuck!” and “Shit!”.  _ This kid needs a bigger vocabulary  _ I think as I turn around to see the parental disgraces who have failed to teach their kids the necessary swear words, only to find Simon Snow Salisbury, staring back at me like a deer in headlights. 

“You look like shit, Baz.”

No, I don’t, I just don’t look like myself. Which, okay, no shit, Sherlock, I haven’t slept properly in so long. It's always too damn cold in that house. 

“You’re one to talk, Snow, you lot look like the cast of a cautionary tale about tragedies of teen pregnancy,”

That, like Snow’s own comment, couldn’t be farther from the truth, the vision of domesticity makes my head fuzzy. It's an unsettling truth that Simon Snow Salisbury can make my head spin with the smallest, most ordinary action. Nothing about him is ordinary, it's all human. It doesn’t make any sense, but Simon Snow Salisbury is the most  _ human  _ person I’ve known. The most alive, the most genuine, the most real.

And no one would truly mistake the Bunces for anyone but the Bunces. They are almost as (in)famous as the Pitches and the Grimms. 

I turn away and usher Octavia and Acantha into the school building. I then lead Morelia back into the car and drive us towards the highschool. 

What kind of fucking name is  _ Snow,  _ anyway? It's like he wants to permanently be a vision of irony. As if he’s not the fucking sun. 

I don’t even blame myself for loving him (that’s a lie, I’m a constant disappointment to myself) because Pitches are addicted to fire. To the heat. The risk. 

It's like I always knew he was going to ruin me. And I’d let him, over and over again. 

**SIMON**

My first class on the first day of school is math. What a fucking idiotic way to start the day. I have astronomy this term and the universe makes me start junior year in math class, listening to a mind-numbingly dull teacher explain to me the procedures for going to the bathroom. 

I keep tapping my pencil against my desk and Penny keeps sending me dirty looks but I couldn’t care less, honestly. 

I watch the clock tick by painstakingly slow. I can’t believe this is only the first period of the day! I’m already so over going back to school. 

“There are certain procedures that must be followed to maintain a functional learning environment,” starts the teacher. _ Oh my god, kill me a thousand times,  _ I say in a look to Penny. 

She slowly rips a piece of paper from her notebook, trying not to make a sound. She scribbles something down and drops the note on the floor. She nudges towards me with the tip of floral docs. 

_ Pay attention, you always act like an oaf whenever you need to go to the bathroom.  _ I roll my eyes at her and fix my eyes at the front of the room. 

It's the same spiel every time, raise your hand if you have something to say (even though the best way to ensure a teacher calls on you is by  _ not  _ raising your hand). Email me if you have any questions (even though she won’t get back to me for two days). 

“But I want everyone to feel like they can state their opinion openly,” the teacher says, straying a little from the normal speech. I doubt the sentiment is genuine. 

“We want to make sure that everyone feels comfortable learning, we don’t want anyone to ever feel endangered or uncomfortable,” she remarks as a new and oddly specific expectation.

This isn’t even like a humanities class where that would be relevant. How are their opinions in math? I snap my head up, suddenly interested in what the teacher is getting at. 

There’s a silence for about ten seconds while the teacher stares at someone behind me. I don’t dare look to see who it is, fearing I’ll trigger some kind of alarm. 

“Basil,” says the teacher, as everyone turns their head to the person sitting two seats behind me. 

“I’m going to need you to take off your pin, to ensure a safe learning environment,” pin? I’m confused until I see a rainbow flag pin attached to the lapel of Baz’s leather jacket. Penny shoots me a death glare, I know she’d rather shoot at the teacher to say ‘ _ what the fuck is going on?’ _ . 

Baz looks livid, though I can see an embarrassed blush settling on his cheeks. It's barely noticeable and extremely faint, but I’m used to trying to decode Baz’s facial expressions. 

No one says anything for another twenty seconds (cowards). Baz looks ready to chop someone’s head off. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow and leans back in his chair, challenging the teacher to stick to her words. Ms. what’s-her-face just crosses her arms over her body and looks at him expectantly. 

“Basil, I don’t allow shows of political affiliation in my class.”

Baz stands up to say something but nothing comes out, for the first time it looks like Basilton Pitch is speechless. 

“What the fuck?” I say under my breath, much louder than I intend. The class takes a collective sharp inhale. 

“Please stay out of this matter, Mr. Salisbury, and remember to use appropriate language,” she says, dismissively, turning back to Baz. 

“No! Baz has every right to wear his pin and its fucking shitty of you to try and embarrass him into being ashamed. Here you are trying to say that everyone should be able to express their opinion, when you won’t even let your students exercise their right to freedom of expression! This is bullshit, what is it 1800? This is fucking bullshit. If I may, nobody had a problem with his pin or his sexuality. In fact, no one even took a second glance until you decided to be an ignorant bigot. I mean what’s your problem?” 

**BAZ**

That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

Did Simon Salisbury just...defend me? I’ve never heard him talk so much (or so well) at one 

Time without stumbling over his words, even if he was swearing like a sailor through it. 

He really is a courageous idiot, always needing to save everyone. 

**SIMON**

“I can fight my own battles, Simon,” murmurs Baz but I only barely hear him over the blood pounding in my ears and the power ballads rattling through my head. 

“Homophobe,” I remark, slumping in my seat as the teacher narrows her beady eyes. I can’t be sure how I knew to say any of that, I suppose it's a mix of my anger/confusion and snippets of Penny’s rants. 

“Mr. Salisbury, Mr. Pitch, you two may leave my class, I will see you after the first period in a meeting with myself and David Mage,” she says firmly. 

Baz makes a beeline for the door, flashing the teacher his most Baz sneer. I follow him and slam the door as hard as I can behind me. 

**PENNY**

“Can I go to the bathroom?” I blurt out. 

I run through the door and give Simon a big hug. I didn’t realize he was shaking.

“You did the right thing, it was very brave,” I say in the most delicate voice I can. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies with a humorless laugh. 

I walk over to where Baz is standing studying his nails intently, pretending not to care about what just happened, a few meters behind Simon. 

I go up to him and give him a hug. He’s stiff under my touch but he’s been through a lot and I want to make sure he knows that people care. I know there aren’t really any words that can help him right now. We’re not friends but I suppose it's always good to know there’s someone who sees you besides your friends.    
“Bunce get off me,” he says through gritted teeth though I can tell he doesn’t really mean it. 

I do let go and look at him, with understanding in my eyes. Trying to communicate how _ much  _ I understand him.

I give Simon another hug and go back to class. 

**BAZ**

“Thank you, Snow,” I say, walking towards Simon. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies quietly. He seems a little light-headed. “She deserved it,”

“She did, asshole,” I say, only starting to process the events that took place just moments ago. 

“Bitch,”

“Motherfucker” 

“Dumbass”

“Horse-faced toad,” I say, Simon chuckles, it warms my heart to think I made him laugh. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you Baz,” he says with heartbreaking ingenuity in his voice. 

“It’s okay - ” I reply leaning on the lockers across from that godforsaken classroom. “I assumed some people would have a problem with it,” I don’t say what ‘it’ is, though I’m weirdly nervous about what he’ll think of my sexuality. 

“They shouldn’t, its a stupid thing to have a problem with,”

“I think so too, Snow,”

“You called me Simon before,”

“No I didn’t,” I say dismissively. 

“But Baz, you did-”

“No I didn’t,” I repeat, cutting him off. Before he can reply, I ask the question at the root of all of this. 

“Why did you defend me?” 

**SIMON**

Why  _ did  _ I defend him? I hate him. I’ve hated him since the first day of sixth grade when he pushed me down the fucking stairs. 

But I couldn’t just stand there. Not while that bitch said all those things about Baz. Who cares if he’s gay? It's no one’s business.

“To get out of math, of course,” I say with a chuckle, flashing him a smile. 

He rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow as if to say  _ ‘seriously, Simon’.  _ I know he would probably call me Snow in head-land though. 

He lowers his head, expecting an answer. 

“I don’t know, they weren’t fair, the things she was saying,”

“Well, I’m forever grateful, Snow, my Knight in Shining Armor,” I know he’s kidding but the term brings a blush to my face and makes my heart race. Probably remembering the adrenaline of my outburst, that does it. There’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me it has something to do with the effortless lean, but I ignore that as always. 

I’m not sure what to do with myself, I mean how do you start a conversation with your enemy who you just defended for being gay?   
“How did you know?” Okay, I think of all the ways I could have tried to break the silence, that was definitely the most awkward.

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. 

“I don’t know, Snow, I just...know,”

“Do awkward situations always limit your vocabulary so dramatically?” I say trying to lighten the mood. We both let out strained, breathy laughs to break the tension. 

“Does yours always grow ten fold when you’re defending people?”

“Only when its you,” what the  _ fuck  _ was that? I clasp my hand over my mouth. 

He smiles shyly though he tries to mask it like a smirk. 

“Then I suppose being around you makes my vocabulary shrink,” he says with a sneer that has no real venom behind it. I welcome the familiar banter nonetheless becuase this situation is fucking  _ weird _ . 

**BAZ**

Simon and I sit outside Mr. Mage’s office. I’m awkwardly straddling the fence between saying something or projecting cold indifference. Usually it would be the latter but that seems a bit unprecedented and, to be frank, unnatural, considering Snow just defended me gallantly. 

The two of us (it feels weird to think of Simon and I in the same boat, in something as a team) are called into David Mage’s office after class. Thank God I have a free period after Math, I will not miss class for this bullshit. 

“Mr. Salisbury, Mr. Pitch, you two can come in now,” Simon gives me a look somewhere between weariness and rage as he strides into the headmaster's office. Technically he’s the principal but our town is small and we have a strange local quirk about using the term ‘headmaster’. Probably because there are a lot of older families with a flare for dramatics in town, my own included. 

Before she died, this was my mother’s office. Then Mage spent years undoing all the changes she made to bring the school into the twenty-first century. Now it's 2020 and I’m in trouble for wearing a Pride pin. I really only did it to pis off Father, it's only a happy coincidence that it pisses off Mage as well. 

I glare at Mr. Mage as he gestures for Simon and I to sit down. Simon looks ready to pounce.

“Mr. Pitch, it's nice to see you,”

I growl out a noncommittal sound and sneer at him.

“I only wish it were under different circumstances,” 

He rolls his eyes and continues. “Look, Basilton, your own...behaviors are your own business. But you’re creating an uncomfortable environment for your peers,”

“Sir!” Simon says “One moment, Mr. Salisbury, I’ll get to you,”

“Do go on,  _ sir, _ ” I sneer. 

“When you come into the school you sacrifice certain  _ rights, _ ” 

I raise an eyebrow. 

“And when you give up these rights you must adhere to my rules,”

“As was the same when your mother ran the school, no?” 

“I assume so, I was five when she died,” 

“Mr. Mage I have to say something here,”

“What is it, Simon,” says Mage, exasperated.

“Nobody cared about Baz’s pin until the teacher pointed it out! No one was uncomfortable!”

“Frankly, Mr. Salisbiry, they were probably too nervous to say anything, for fear of being ostracized,” he says, as if he’s already won.

“Mr. Pitch,” he starts, plastering on an almost manic fake smile, too sickeningly sweet to ever look real, “what would your mother think of this behavior?”

**SIMON**

Something crosses Baz’s face that I haven’t seen in a very long time. Something I haven’t seen since...well, since just before he pushed me down the fucking stairs. 

Now, I think I understand what it is, vulnerability, pain. 

I’ve never recognized pain from him before. I’ve seen anger, rage, I’ve never seen pain and known what it was. When Ms. Crucible first paired us up for an english project, I suppose that was the first I saw of Baz’s anger, a valid reaction considering how bad I was at English. 

Baz pushes his chair back with a deafening screech and saunters out of Mr. Mage’s office. 

I don’t hear Mr. Mage calling him back.

I don’t hear the gasps from Mr. Mage’s secretary. 

My brain focuses on Baz’s footsteps as I follow him out the building and around the corner. 

I don’t know where he’s going or what he’s thinking, but he’s moving. I want to know where. 

I don’t think he even knows I’m following him. 

**BAZ**

I know Simon is following me. 

He’s nowhere as sneaky as he thinks he is, I’m just trying to lose him, to get him off my tail.

I know it was dramatic to march out of Mr. Mage’s office, but a Pitch is nothing if not theatrical. There’s a field behind the school, very oddly placed, with poppies. I don’t realize until it's too late that that's where I am going. My mother used to take me here. Before she died, she would take me to play in the flowers while she was working late.

Strange to think I am leading Snow there now, it's one of those memories I didn’t know I had until I’m here standing in that field again. The sun makes the dry grass look golden. I know that there’s a road on the other side of that fence but somehow I feel like I’ve entered a different world. Like I’ve entered a memory. 

I can almost see my mom dancing in the red flowers with me and laughing in that carefree way I only saw in special moments. 

“Baz,” Snow pleads. I collapse against the brick wall at the back of the school and take a shuddering breath. 

**SIMON**

“Just fuck off Snow, you’ve done your hero duty, or whatever, you fucking savior complex should be at peace,” he says but there’s now real venom behind it, he just looks  _ broken  _ in a way I’ve never seen from him. 

“Baz-” I start

“Just go, Snow,” he says again, like the mask he keeps on is about to break like I’m about to see him be human. 

That's not my job, though, we’re not friends, we’re not enemies, I suppose but I don’t need to be here to comfort him, so I go. 

**BAZ**

When Snow’s gone I look around. How  _ the hell  _ did I end up here? 

I lean my head against the wall and relive the flashbacks of the last couple of days until my legs get up without my consent and I walk back into the school.


	3. THE KEY, THE DRAWER, AND THE LIBRARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Penelope have tea. Simon finds a beginning in a locked drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this fic was made by the incredible [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) to jam along with Simon and Baz. 
> 
> Check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) Hope you enjoy!

**SIMON**

“Simon,” Penny starts in a delicate voice that's strangely unnatural for her as we walk home. “I’m proud of you,”

“Thanks, Pen, but we really don’t have to talk about it,”

“Okay, Si,” she breathes. 

We walk in silence for the rest of the way home, luckily without our nosy siblings, who have soccer practice, and who tend to pick-up on our awkward silences.I try not to think about Baz, the pained expression he wore, how his mask seemed to crumble for just a few seconds. I don’t think about the pull in my stomach when the teacher started to tell him off. 

We come home to an empty house, and Penny starts to make tea. 

It's our thing. Whenever we come home and we’re the only ones there, we make tea. Always. It's like a reflex at this point. Penelope keeps a tray with our favorite tea and sugar cubes on top of the cupboard in our kitchen, away from our little siblings who like eating the sugar cubes like horses. 

When we were younger she used to keep the tray in her room but after an unfortunate problem with ants, we had to relocate. 

“Simon,” she tries again, sitting across from me at the kitchen table. 

“I don’t know, Penny, okay? I don’t know why I did it!”

“Its okay, Si, to not know,”

“Yeah, how was your first day back?” I say, changing the subject much less smoothly then I would have hoped. She gives me a tight smile of understanding and starts on. 

“Well, our English teacher is absolutely brilliant,”

“He totally is!” I say, I may not be as brilliant as Penny, but one of the first things we bonded over was reading. She’s a fantastic writer, something I’ll never be because I enjoy things with concrete answers, things you can test, but I enjoy literature thoroughly. I always wonder why people can’t enjoy things without being the best at them. 

“There’s one other thing, though,” Penny starts nervously. 

“Micah.” Micah’s been Penny’s boyfriend since, well, middle school. I always liked him but something about their relationship always did feel off. It's like he’s trying to change her to be something she’s not. 

“What’s up, Pen?”

“It's like, at first, he convinced me to be more adventurous and branch out, but now it just seems like he doesn’t actually like anything about me fundamentally, and I know that’s mental, we’ve been together forever, I just wish he could see what he’s doing.”

I take a moment to think before I answer “well I guess the only logical thing to do is talk to him,”

“I know but I’ve been compromising myself for so long I think that would end it,” she says, for the first time not looking as sure of herself as she should. Penny’s so, frankly, badass and strong-willed, it breaks my heart to see her feel so small. It breaks my heart that somebody made her feel so small. 

“Penny,” she looks up at me, “I think that’s better than being in a relationship that doesn’t make you feel good about yourself,” she gives me a small nod and sighs. 

“I guess you’re right.”

We finish our tea in companionable silence and after a while, Penny goes to her room to do her homework.

Whenever I feel like, untethered, confused, like I could float away, I go to my mom’s library. 

The first time she found me looking through the drapes on the doors I was eleven, it was a couple of months after I had been placed with the Bunces. They were always friendly but the place was new and I was scared the friendly was going to end. 

I made it a habit, every time I was placed in a new care home or with another family, to explore the area, examine the terrain, survey the territory. The first time I did it, it was to find places I could hide from the other kids, but after a while, it became a way for me to feel like I was in control. Like, ‘okay, here I am, there’s a lot of shit going on that I can’t do anything about, but at least I know what the bathroom is’.

I waited, in my quest, until I knew it was safe, to explore that side of the house, it seemed like the kind of place I definitely wouldn't be allowed into.

Mitali found me on the floor peering through the glass on the door at all the books. I had never been smart, not like Penny anyway, but I always liked to read. Penelope says I have ‘escapist tendencies’.

She opened the door with a kind smile and told me to come in. I was scared because most people called me in to their offices when I was about to go somewhere else, and I really didn’t want to go somewhere else, I liked the Bunces and I liked Penny. 

“Pick a book, Simon,” she said instead of kicking me out. At my baffled expression, she continued. 

“This is a library, it's about time someone borrowed a book,” she opened her arms and spun around with a bright smile that looked remarkably like Penny’s smile. I looked around, awestruck. 

“Would you like me to recommend a book?” I nodded. She pulled out a book from one of her desk drawers. 

She held the faded cover to her chest and crossed her arms over it like she was simultaneously protecting it and dawning it like armor. 

“ _ The Secret Garden  _ by Frances Hodgson Burnett,” she said, gingerly handing me the book. 

“Take care of it, it's one of my favorites.” 

I read the whole thing in one night. I absolutely loved the idea that there could be a secret place hidden from the world like that. It reminded me of everything I had found in my own explorations. Though I never found a secret garden, I’ve thought maybe discovering the library was  _ my  _ secret garden.

The next day I set the book in front of the door, too scared to return it to Mitali in person. When I came back later, a new book was in its place;  _ Treasure Island  _ by  Robert Louis Stevenson, then  _ Anne of Green Gables _ , and  _ Bridge to Terabithia  _ and  _ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  _

A couple of months of doing that and Mitali gave me a key to the library and signed my adoption papers. 

One of the last books she gave me to read before I got adopted was  _ A Wrinkle in Time  _ by Madeleine L'Engle, that might have been where my affinity for space came from only after that, in science class did I wholly fall in love with space but that book blew my mind on a level that made me feel like something could matter more than the cruel world we live in. 

Suffice to say, this and the roof have always been my favorite room in the house. 

When Penelope is safely upstairs I carefully unlock the door and breathe in the scent of mom’s favorite candle. 

None of the other Bunces are allowed in here, though I’m pretty sure Penny figured out that this is where I go when I have nightmares because she’s prone to late-night strolls after long nights of studying.

I scan the books with reverie. The room is relatively small, but it's always felt like it held a million different secrets and answers to questions I’d never even asked. 

The first few times I came in here alone I’d just pulled out a whole shelf of books trying to find the one that would open up the secret passage or something. 

I venture to the shelf behind mom’s desk. She’s never been particularly organized but she’s super into classic science fiction books and she keeps them all on the bottom shelf. I pull out  _ The Left Hand of Darkness  _ by Ursula LeGuin and scan the cover. 

I go to flip to the first page. Instead of words, I find a hollowed out portion with curios a gold key inside. It's definitely the kind of thing that I would have expected to find when I first gained access to this place but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t vaguely convinced it was one of dad’s infamous pranks. 

The key has roses engraved on the edges that look unmistakable like the ones that line the outside of the cover of  _ The Secret Garden  _ that I remember so vividly from what feels like a lifetime ago. 

I run my freckled finger across the etchings and turn towards the desk behind me. The bottom drawer dawns the same pattern along the edges of the lock. 

I carefully put the key in the lock and turn my wrist with a loud  _ click.  _

The drawer with a heavy wooden sound and inside lay two books. First,  _ The Secret Garden  _ and a second, which looks like a manuscript. 

It's printed in a classic typewriter font and bound with twine. 

_ A SPACE OPERA by Natasha Grimm-Pitch.  _ Holy shit. 

I know it's risky but I pull out the book and lock the drawer. I carefully place the key back into the book (which I make a note to find an actual copy to read) and put it back on the shelf next to  _ Dune.  _ I can practically feel Penelope’s annoyance at the lack of alphabetization. She gets her smarts from our mom for sure, but her organization is all Martin. 

I dash upstairs and into my room soundlessly and slam the door to my bedroom behind me. 

“Simon?” Penny questions from her room next to mine. 

“I’m good,” I say as I panic. 

Natasha Grimm-Pitch, that’s Baz’s mom. The former headmistress of Watford, I think she was promoted to that position when Mitali was a senior.

I open the front cover and find the words ‘Mitali, look over this one, would you? - Natasha Grimm-Pitch’ scrawled in green ink, or, not scrawled so much as calligraphed. Her handwriting looks so much like Baz’s, it makes my heartache ‘just a little bit. 

One thing that the Bunces are adamant about that I find charming if not a little cliche, it family dinners. 

Martin and Mitali work a lot and all of my siblings are driven as fuck but at family dinners their just a family, we’re just a family. I usually enjoy it, I’d never had that sense of family before. 

Tonight, all I can think about is the fact that upstairs I, Simon Salisbury, have the work of Natasha Grimm-Pitch. That makes it super fucking hard not to think about Baz. 

Everyone knows that his dad is overbearing, to say the least, it's no secret that Baz is expected to follow in his footsteps and become some hotshot politician or a banker or some shit.

I’ve known Baz for a long time (unfortunately) and he’s supposed to be a writer. I knew it from that first English project. His mom is a writer, so is he. It's strange to think that Baz could be more than just that sarcastic, unbreakable, prick. Maybe he’s hiding too. 

“Simon? Simon!” mom says snapping me out of my thoughts. 

“Ah, sorry, what?” 

After helping Penny wash the dishes I dash up the stairs two at a time and close the door behind me.

I pull the manuscript out of my bedside table drawer and stroke the spine carefully. I skim the note one more time and start on. 

Sometime around two am I finish the book, stunned. It was good. It was really fucking good. It was science-fiction and really fucking incredible. 

Natasha Grimm-Pitch must have been some kind of fucking genius. Which I wouldn’t be at all surprised about going off of what I know about Baz. The thing is, she never finished it. Somewhere in the middle, she just stopped writing. 

I decide to get some sleep but every time I close my eyes I see snippets of her writing in my eyes. It was like poetry but not the stuffy kind that's laced with unnecessary metaphors. 

More like when someone speaks the absolute truth and it gives you chills but at the same time she was talking about such complex topics it's insane that she could write that beautifully. 

It's a distinct feeling, feeling numb and empty and  _ buzzed  _ all at the same time after finishing a fantastic book, one that I have felt uncountable times. 

This time I’m not numb or empty but I am buzzed. Butterflies-in-stomach, bouncing-off-the-walls,  _ buzzed.  _ There’s just one thought running through my head  _ I have to tell Baz.  _

**BAZ**

Snow’s following me again. 

Last year he used to do this a lot, follow me, that is. It was torture. Now I don’t know what I’ll do if he takes up the practice again. I knew he was gonna get weird about the whole gay thing. 

Really, I never pegged Simon as the homophobic type but even the most liberal of straight men tend to get a little awkward. 

Simon and I were dealt detention via email after running out of the meeting with Mr. Mage so I haven’t and will not have a second away from him until I get home (here’s to hoping he doesn’t follow me all the way there).

I walk out of maths, I really should transfer out of that class but it's been a chaotic two days back at school.

Simon thinks he’s being really slick, to his credit, he’s improved at stalking, he’s keeping a distance but I’ve been so in tune with his emotions for so long that I knew what the day held after he tried to smile at me in the hallway before the first period. 

I really am too tired for this shit. I swing around and bang right into Simon fucking Snow. 

“What  _ is it,  _ Snow? Why the sudden interest in stalking me again?” Simon flushes but keeps a determined look in his eyes. 

“Baz we need to talk,” I raise my eyebrow. 

“Okay Snow, don’t shit yourself, we’ll talk during detention,” I say, Simon smiles and makes my heart flutter but I resist the urge to smile back at him. 

“Okay,” he says resolutely, turning and sauntering towards Bunce who’s standing in the doorway of our recently exited classroom.

I float all the way through the day until I’m sat next to Dev and Niall at lunch. 

“Mate,” starts Dev. 

“What?” I snap.

“You could have told us you’re gay.”

“I’m gay.”

“No shit,” Niall pipes in with a smile. 

“So you guys are...cool?”

“Cool? I love you, Cuz but it's not as if we didn’t know,” 

“Never call me Cuz again, Deveraux,”

“Yeah, mate, we’re cool, we just wanted you to know we’re not assholes,” Niall says.

“Good,”

“Yeah” Niall starts again “and” a beat. “I’m bi, so it’d be some self-loathing shit to not be cool with it.”

“Yeah?” Dev says breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” Niall replies with a soft nod towards my cousin. The two of them have some weird as fuck energy exchange and I turn back towards them. 

“Well great, can we stop talking about this now,”

“So is there a guy?” Dev says, ignoring me and wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh, we are so not talking about this.” 

“So there  _ is, _ ” Niall teases. 

I will my face not to turn red. 

“Shut up, assholes.”

“I bet it's Snow,” Dev whispers. 

“So, Niall, thoughts on Liverpool?” I say, trying to change the subject. 

They see through me but they humor me and start arguing about football. Good men. 

**SIMON**

I sit down with Penelope and Micah during lunch, Agatha doesn’t sit with us anymore. We dated for almost a year but she broke up with me right before the end of last semester. I was confused at first, she was one of my best friends before we started dating. I realize now that we were no good together. 

She sits with Trixie and Keris now. She seems happier. She said she needed to figure out who she was and to do that she had to be on her own for a while. I miss her but ultimately, I just want her to be content. She never was when we were dating. 

She flashes me a smile over her shoulder and I wave back. My eyes settle on Baz, though, who seems to be in heated discussion with Dev and Niall. 

**BAZ**

After drifting my way through the rest of the day I stand nervously by the door to the detention classroom, waiting for Snow about five minutes before we’re due in detention. 

“Baz,” he says with a discombobulating grin.    


“Snow,” I nod. 

“What is it you want to talk about,” his face falls into a nervous though slightly manic smile. It's charming really. 

“Right, um, I was going through my mom’s library, well I wasn’t going through it really I was just looking around, and I found this book on her ‘classic sci-fi shelf’, she really loves that shelf-”

“Do get on with it, Snow I haven’t got all day,”

“Right, well, I found- I found a manuscript,”

“A manuscript?” I raise my eyebrow. 

“Your mom’s manuscript,” this time, my face falls.

“What do you mean, Snow?”

“It was a sci-fi book with your mom’s name on it, I think she gave it to Mitali to edit or something,” I wait. 

“It was good, no actually it was fucking fantastic, I want to finish it, I want us to finish it,”

“What’s it called?”

“ _ A SPACE OPERA  _ by Natasha Grimm-Pitch,” he says, pulling something out of his bag. 

He hands me a twine-bound book. I run my fingers across the title, and down the spine. I open the front cover and stare at her handwriting across the inside. 

It was my mom’s work. Her book. She wrote a book. 

“So?”

“So what, Snow?”

“Will you help me finish it?”

“Snow,  _ I  _ will finish it, thank you for bringing this to me, I’ll take it from here,” I know I sound like a prick but I am not prepared to spend that much time with him especially after yesterday’s events and besides, this is something I should do alone. 

“Baz, look, I’m not gonna force it, this is your mom’s book, it belongs to you, but I really do wanna help,” my head goes a little fuzzy at the understanding in his voice. 

“What’s in it for you?”

“I don’t know, I liked it, I like books, this one’s great, I want to finish it,” he says with his trademark shrug. “And maybe I can help with the astronomy stuff,”

“Touching Snow, really, and it's good to know you do, in fact, have skills besides stalking AND you know how to read but I’m good,”

“Fine,” he shrugs again. 

We walk into detention without a word and I crack open my mom’s book. It still feels surreal to say. The feeling of holding a piece of who she was, something she put time and effort into, it's overwhelming. 

-

“Wonder, like all good things, can turn to lust as quickly as devotion, given humans are the ones wondering,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (Natasha Grimm-Pitch).

-

I spend detention and much of the afternoon reading the words of my mother. Every sentence is dripping with her voice, it's hard to read, really. 

Everything I remember about her, how kind she was, how brilliant, this confirms all of it. But she was so much more, I wish more than anything she lived long enough for me to really know her, to understand this side of her. 

I wish she had been able to know me, it's sappy as hell but it's true. 

I take notes as I finish the book. She stopped writing, very clearly in the middle of the story, I’m still a little breathless from her writing. 

It's simple, the plot, sort of interstellar-esc, but it's heartbreaking. 

I spend all night staring at the words, google open in front of me, trying to figure out how to finish this but nothing. The science is graduate-level, and that being generous, and really the book is so monologue-driven and philosophical that I don't see a clear end. 

One thing becomes clear. I need help. 

-

“Every so often I hold council. With everyone I ever knew in my old life. I don’t ask if they’d be proud of me, I know the answer to that, I don’t apologize for who I became, they know I’m not sorry. Instead, I ask them if  they’re  sorry…”

-

“Alright Simon, you can help,” I say Wednesday morning before school.

“Yeah?”

“On one condition, bring Bunce,” Simon may know astronomy but Bunce is smart as hell, and she’ll act as a nice buffer between me and Snow. 

“Okay! Meet in the library after school, do you have the book?”

“Yes, I do. 3:30, Snow. Don’t be late.” I say with a wink. 

-

“...I ask them if they’re sorry that suddenly I became strong enough to be proud of myself for them. I sit my petty ass down and say all the things I was too weak to say before. I put on my armor and sharpen my sword and I hold council.” - _A SPACE OPERA_ (Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

I merely exist in the hours between when I see Snow in the morning and the time I’m supposed to see him in the afternoon. 

The lines that my mother wrote flash through my mind. She really was amazing. I thought that working on this would make me feel more whole like maybe what I’ve been missing all this time was my mother’s presence and this could be a good enough substitute. 

All I really feel is more empty. The more I read the book, the more I got to know Natasha Pitch the more I ached for the life I could have had. 

It’s screwed up, but the more I think about how much I missed the more I fear that she would be disappointed in who I am. I know she loved me but that was a long time ago, heaven knows I’ve changed since the ripe old age of five. 

Before I know it I’m walking towards Simon Snow Salisbury and Penelope Fucking Bunce who are sat behind an old wooden table in the school library. It really has taken a turn for the worse since Mage’s ‘reforms’, as he calls them. I call them disgusting displays of censorship and breaches on my right to freedom of speech (motherfucker discreetly removed all the books with queer characters). 

“Basil,” Bunce says as a greeting, I like her, she’s blunt and smart. 

“Bunce, Snow.”

“Simon still won’t tell me why I’m here,” she says crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Well, Snow, don’t keep little Bunce in suspense,”

Simon and I recount the whole story with Penelope at varying degrees of annoyance that Simon kept this from her and that he’s allowed in their mom’s library (their dynamic would be charming if it weren’t so goddamn perfect).

“So, you found a manuscript by Baz’s mom,”

“Yes,” Snow and I say in unison. Bunce flashes us a weary grin.

“And you want to finish it,”

“Yes” once more.

“But you have no idea where to start?” I nod. 

“Well then, I think I can be of service,” Bunce pulls a whiteboard out of some corner of the library that’s seemingly brought into existence by way of magic and uncaps a pen as purple as her hair. 

“Let's start with a to-do list,” she starts “then we can go from there as far as researching and writing goes,”

“Firstly, can I see the manuscript, Baz?” I hand it to her carefully and she flips through the pages. 

“Okay firstly,” she says, taking control immediately like a school teacher. “We should transcribe the book into a word document or something,”

Simon groans. 

“Si the copy obviously has sentimental value,” Bunce says, I silently thank her. “And we’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot of annotating and marking up to make it a cohesive story,”

She writes ‘1’ on the whiteboard and next to it ‘transcribe novel’

Half an hour later we have six steps ‘1. Transcribe Novel, 2. Annotate for themes, metaphors and literary devices, 3. Research scientific concepts, 4. Outline the book, 5. Write the book, 6. Edit and proofread,’

“Can’t we just start writing?” Snow pipes in. 

“No, Snow, it has to be  _ good, _ ”

“Basil is right, Simon, his mom was amazing, we have to do her book justice, speaking of which I haven’t even read the thing,”

“Well, why don’t we knock out two birds with one stone, Simon and I can dictate and you, Bunce, can type’’ Penelope’s already getting her laptop out and sweeping her hair into a bun on the top of her head. 

Simon starts reading the book and I get lost in the sound of my mother’s words in his voice. He’s terrible, he stumbles over every other word as Bunce types diligently, but her story sounds perfect coming out of his mouth. 

After the first chapter, he passes the book over to me. I sweep my hair out of my face and start on, recounting the words that have been bouncing around my head for the past twenty-four hours. 

-

“I used to think Space was unknowable, that there would always be something outside my range that I couldn’t touch. It took me going to space to find out that the only thing unknowable had been the universe inside her mind,” - _A SPACE OPERA_ (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch).

-

We leave the library around six, only around halfway through the book which was probably around sixty-thousand words, after an awkward number exchange and forced amicable goodbyes. 

One thing that I’ve been thinking about recently, is the ‘her’ that is mentioned repeatedly. Nothing too scandalous but I suppose I’d never considered the fact that my mother might be queer. It makes me feel weirdly comforted. 

I mean, maybe it wasn’t about her or maybe it wasn’t about love, but it sure as hell felt like it. 

Maybe I have more in common with my mother than I thought.


	4. THE GOOGLE DOC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annotation, sleepovers and medieval Penelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this fic was made by the incredible [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) to jam along with Simon and Baz. 
> 
> Check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) Hope you enjoy!

**_Penelope Bunce shared a Google Doc_ ** _ ‘A SPACE OPERA by Natasha Grimm-Pitch Transcription _

**_Penelope Bunce shared a Photo_ **

**_Group Chat Created by Penelope Bunce_ ** _ ‘ASO Team’ _

I guess this is really happening, it's not like Penelope Bunce not to follow through. 

“Baz!” Mordelia says running towards me with a smile. 

“Hey you Mordy, how was school,”

“Good! How about you, Bazzy?”

“Don’t call me Bazzy, Moredlia it's very unflattering,”

“Bazzy’s grumpy,” Mordelia says with a fake pout. She’s fourteen but she does love getting on my nerves. She and I are the last Pitches, my mom had her just a couple of years before she died. 

“When is he not?” Fiona says walking into the room like she owns it. 

“Hey, Fi,” I deadpan “don’t you have a home or something to go back to?”

“Watch it, kiddo, ‘snot like you’re supporting yourself,” she smirks.

I roll my eyes. 

“How you doing, boyo, stolen any young man’s heart yet?” Mordelia chuckles and shoves me unnecessarily hard.

“Hmm, I’m quite the heartbreaker, yes,” I quip. Fiona snorts and punches me on the arm like a frat bro. 

“Hey, Fi, have you spoken to my dad?”

“No, why?”

“I came out,” Fiona lets out a long breath. 

“How’d that go?”

“Not great,”

“You okay?”

“Fine,”

“Alright then, you sure there are no young lads you’d like to bone?”

“Fiona!”

“What? I’m just asking!” she says putting her hands up in defense “you’re a menace, is what you are.”

“Guilty!” she says hopping up to the bar cart. 

-

‘I think about nostalgia a lot. I think about how much I feel like all my memories are me praying off of someone else’s life. Suddenly, I became someone else who doesn’t have the right to remember who I used to be’ -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ ( by Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

**SIMON**

**_Penny to_ ** _ ‘ASO Team’ Wednesday 8:43 _

(8:43)  **Penny:** When should we meet up again?

(9:00) **Basilton Grimm-Bitch:** I have football Thursdays and Tuesdays starting next week.

(9:02)  **Penny:** And I have work on Mondays, Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays.

(9:03)  **Simon:** i don’t have anything during the week i guess we can plan 2 meet on fridays.

(9:03)  **Basilton Grimm-Bitch:** Yes, I second Snow’s almost incoherent plan. 

(9:04)  **Simon:** fuck off baz

(9:04)  **Basilton Grimm-Bitch:** *Fuck off, Baz.

(9:05)  **Simon:** thats what i said you prick

(9:05)  **Basilton Grimm-Bitch:** *That’s what I said, you prick. 

(9:06)  **Simon:** oh shut up asshole

(9:06)  **Basilton Grimm-Bitch is typing**

(9:06)  **Penny:** Oh both of you shut up. 

(9:07)  **Penny:** I hate boys.

(9:08)  **Basilton Grimm-Bitch:** Me too. I’ll see you on Friday, Bunce. Snow. 

I put down my phone with a huff. Baz is a prick even over text. 

“Strange that we’re texting the same group chat even though we’re sitting right next to each other,” Penelope says startling me “the digital age, I suppose,” she muses sitting up and stretching out on her bed. 

“Yeah, that’s funny,” I say absentmindedly. 

“What’s up, Simon?”

“Oh nothing, just thinking,”

“About Baz?” Penelope asks with a smirk. 

“He’s such a prick,”

“I know, Simon, but to be fair your grammar is abysmal, that’s gonna have to change when we start working on the book,”

“I know grammar, Penny, I just don’t use it over text,”

“Honestly, Simon I love you, but I really don’t care, take it up with Baz,”

Penelope leans back against her pillows and opens her book back up while I start scrolling through Instagram. 

I wake up the next day on Penny’s floor, it's not infrequent that we fall asleep while chatting or studying but that means I wake with a wicked crook in my neck and I thank every god that might be out there that I won’t have to deal with Baz until tomorrow. 

I stumble out of Penny’s room to the sound of her arguing with her parents downstairs and bang my head right on the bathroom door. 

I groan and push the door open, luckily it's empty so I brush my teeth and get ready for the day.

By the time both of us are showered and changed we’re almost late for school assuming we have to walk. Martin agrees to drop our younger siblings off on his way to work so we set off towards the school.

We walk with idle chatter between us and start off towards math. 

The day passes by in the same way, slowly and painstakingly, laced with nerves. To be honest, I feel like a live wire whenever Baz is around. It’s like I hear his voice and a spark starts in my head that doesn’t go down until he walks away. I wonder if this project is what’s gonna make me finally catch fire. 

Penelope passes me notes in class to see why I’m acting so ‘syncopated’, as she says. I don’t have an answer for her besides ‘Baz’ so eventually, she stops asking. 

After the school day ends I drag Penny out of the brick school building and into the stands of the football pitch. Baz stands near the side of the pitch cradling his right arm in his elbow and talking with Dev and Niall. 

Coach Mac walks onto the pitch wearing small circular glasses with her usual air of decorum and order. She hollers out some instructions and the players scatter out around the field. 

Baz takes his spot just to the other side of the mid-field line and sweeps his hair into a messy bun on the top of his head in one fluid motion. Graceful as always. 

He immediately gains possession of the ball and starts off towards the other team's goal. He’s bloody fast. He’s ruthless in football, just like he is in real life. He always goes for the kill. It's beautiful to watch. 

“Simon, why are we here?” Penny asks as Baz scores. 

“Just wanted to catch some footie?” I say though it sounds like a question. 

“Si, let’s go, what could he be plotting?” 

“I’m just making sure he’s not pulling anything with this whole ‘let’s finish what my mom started’ stuff.”

“You found the book, Si,” she says, exasperated. I shrug and turn back to the game. 

“It’s not like he can plot and play football,” she deadpans, standing up and holding out her hand to me. 

“I suppose you’re right,” I concede, though it's mostly because it’s bloody cold out here and I didn’t bring a jacket. 

“Come on, we don’t need a repeat of last year,” she says with an eye roll. 

She pulls me up from the bench and I gather my stuff. I swear I see Baz look up at me but Penny drags me towards home before I can check. 

We get home and make tea as always and Penelope retreats back to her room as I crack open  _ The Secret Garden  _ and I settle in for the afternoon

-

“I’ve found the places on Earth I miss most are not the ones I was ever supposed to know, but rather the places that I defied fate to get to, that I found against the will of destiny. Destiny. What a shit construct.” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ ( by Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

Mitali walks through the doors sometime after five, balancing her books and documents and closing the door with the end of her heel. 

Her arms and chest collapse against the dining room table and she sits down on a chair with a tired sigh before she even notices me. 

Once she does, she puts on a wide smile. 

“Simon! How was school?” she asks. 

“Fine,” I reply. 

“The Secret Garden? Again?” she asks, her smile becoming something softer and more fond. 

I shrug shyly and she takes a seat across from me and pulls out her own book. We sit in companionable silence for a bit. This happens a lot, the entire family can be loud and extroverted, I suppose reading with Mitali has become a sort of escape from all of that  _ energy _ . 

“Mom?” I try. 

“What’s up, Simon?”

“Well, um, do you remember anything about Natasha Pitch? Baz’s mom? She was your teacher right?”

“Yeah she taught English when I was in a junior then she became the headmistress when I was in a senior,”

“Right, what was she like?” I try nervously. 

“She was brilliant and kind. She was the kind of teacher that made you want to learn. Why?”

“Just wondering,” she gives me a curious look but goes back to her book, as do I. 

**BAZ**

Simon and Penelope meet me in the library at the same solid wooden table we met at last time.

“Hello, Basil,” Bunce says, sitting down across from me. 

“Bunce. What’s on the agenda today?”

“Well, you would know if you looked at the agenda I posted in the group chat but I digress. Today we should try to finish the transcription and start annotating. Baz, do you have to leave at a certain time?”

“I’m good,” I say, pulling out the original manuscript. Bunce pulls out her sticker ridden laptop and opens up the document. This time, I go first and start off dictating my mother’s book. 

We finish typing after about two hours but Bunce seems set on at least starting the annotations tonight so she gets up to print out the document and leaves Snow and me alone.

I try to ignore him, I pull out my pencil case and get out my annotation tools but Snow just watches me like he’s squinting at the fine print on a contract. 

“Thank you,” I start, trying to break the tension “for helping me with this,” he snaps out of it but looks at me for a few more seconds, trying to figure out what to say. 

“Don’t mention it, Baz,” he sounds like he really means it. Just when I open my mouth to say something else Bunce walks up to us and collapses in her chair. 

“The printer’s taking forever,” she explains. We sit there in silence for a moment. 

“So, Baz, any ideas for the book?” Bunce tries. 

“Well I don’t think we’re really qualified to finish it with a proper ending, it was her story, you know? So maybe we should just write commentary and stick it in the back?”

“But nobody reads the commentary, do they?” Simon says. 

“I do,” Penelope and I say in unison. 

“Our goal is to publish it, yeah? So it needs an ending,” Snow says. 

“Well we can cross that bridge when we get there,” Bunce concludes, getting up from the table to grab the print outs. 

We continue the session in much the same way, in respectful silence, reading my mother’s words. It kills me a little bit to realize that my mother was this amazing woman in a capacity so far past my understanding. She lived a life and wrote about her experience through an allegory about circling a black hole. 

I never knew the woman who wrote this book. I knew the woman who had secrets and passions that seemed so much bigger than everything I had known. This Natasha Grimm-Pitch is one I never met.

Penelope switches colored highlighters and pens aggressively like if she looks away from the writing for a second, she’ll miss something. I can’t say I blame her. My mother drops these lines of poetry into her random paragraphs and it's almost an intoxicating feeling to read. 

Snow, on the other hand, is a bit behind us in terms of pages but is methodically using the same ballpoint pen to cram notes in the margins of the pages. He looks at the words with reverie as if he can’t believe what he’s witnessing. It's beautiful to watch the gears turn in his head. To wait for the gleam in his eyes when he gets to a particularly good line and the small, contemplative smile that follows it. 

I go to turn my head back to my own work, thankful that Simon didn’t notice me watching but am met with a smirk from Penelope Bunce. I raise my eyebrow as if I have no idea what she’s implying but she just shakes her head and goes back to her highlighting. 

“The library is closing in five minutes!” the librarian hollers. The three of us look up from our respective trances and hesitate for a moment. 

“Well, that was surprisingly productive!” Bunce says standing up and cracking her back. 

“Yeah, thanks for...helping me,” I say lamely. 

“For the last time Baz, stop thanking us, we’re in this together,” Snow says, blushing at the cliché. I give him a smile I hope doesn’t seem too revealing and Bunce and Snow walk out of the library together. 

That night, it’s hard to really think about anything but my mother and her story. The world she created for herself. I can’t help but wonder if she, like me, preferred the world of  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ to the real one. To the one with me in it. 

I pull the original copy out of my desk drawer and run my fingertips over the title printed on speckled cardstock-like paper.

I open the front cover and look at the dedication,  _ to little puff _ , is all it reads, if Simon noticed the inscription when he was reading out loud he didn’t mention it but suddenly it seems like the most important part of the book. She dedicated it to me, and I had no idea it existed for so long. 

I end up spending most of the weekend trying not to think about a certain star woman waiting in the sky. 

By the time Friday rolls around again for my third meeting with Snow and Bunce I’m practically finished with the annotations and from the excited looks on their faces so are Snow and Bunce. 

“Hey, Baz,” Penelope says rather chipperly, taking her seat across from me and opening up her copy of  _ A SPACE OPERA _ .

“Hello, Bunce, you’re rather chipper this afternoon,”

“Astute observation, Basil, that is because I have, in fact, finished this book,”

“Me too,” Simon starts “so what do we do now?” 

Bunce pulls out the infamous chalkboard out from behind a shelf. “Now we make a list of themes and a list of concepts so we can really understand the book.”

She separates the board into two columns and titles them ‘themes’ and ‘concepts’ then turns back to Snow and I expectantly. 

“Well for one, nostalgia, sort of the idea of a second life,” I say flipping through my annotations. 

“Yeah,” Bunce says “and leaving things behind,”

“It’s not leaving things behind that the book is getting at though, is it?” Simon asks though it sounds more like a statement. 

“It's about the very human struggle of the passage of time,” he says with a spark in his eyes.

“But she tells it through a Science-Fiction lens!” I finish.

“Exactly! Your mom uses the mystically of nostalgia that people feel anyway and puts it into a science fiction story,” Bunce chimes in thoughtfully. 

“It's genius!” Snow says, looking at me with a smile that just about melts my heart. Bunce goes to write on the board and Simon and I just look at each other with excited expressions. I suppose he’s smarter then he looks. 

**SIMON**

Baz isn’t at all what I thought he was, at least not while we’re working on his mother’s book. 

He’s a prick, sure, he’s always been a prick, but he cares so much, I never thought I cared about anything. He always looks so bored and untouchable, like nothing could ever reach him or get to him. 

Penny continues to write down themes and concepts on the board as Baz and I name them. 

“Hey Baz, do you remember our English teacher from when we were eleven?”

“Oh do I, she loved me,” Baz says with a smirk. 

“All teachers love you, but that’s beside the point,” I say and I swear I see him blush. I’d love to see Baz flustered, but that never happens, he’s always cool, calm and collected. “The point is, remember when we were reading Macbeth?”

“And she talked about how ambition always led to a state of emptiness even if you succeed,” he continues. 

“Because you always end up thinking about the price you paid to get there,” I say as Penelope looks at us like she’s watching the eighth wonder of the world.

“The whole book, the nameless main character, is thinking about the prices they paid at the altar of ambition,” Baz says looking down at the wooden table.

“It’s brilliant,” I muse. 

“That lesson was my mother’s,” Baz says, looking back up at me, his mask down, with a slightly pained expression. 

“What?” I ask lamely. 

“Our teacher came up to me after that class and told me before my mother taught Juniors at the high school she taught that class. And they kept that lesson from her curriculum.”

“Whoa,” I breathe.

“Whoa, is right, indeed, Snow,” he says, putting back on his usual bored expression. He almost let me see, he almost opened up. 

“Are you alright, Baz?” I try, but he’s already got his guard up again.

“Fine, Snow, let’s get on with it.”

-

“ If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden. ” -  _ A Secret Garden  _ (by Frances Hodgson Burnett)

-

“Well, fellas, I think we’re ready to start researching,” Penelope says after a couple of weeks of analyzing the book. By early October, we’ve learned everything there is to know about the book and analyzed the philosophy but the science part of it is...complicated. 

Baz isn’t anything like I thought he’d be. He cares so much about the book but it's also more than that. He can also be incredibly, heartbreakingly kind. He’s not nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he manages to explain things without being condescending and christ he’s actually pretty damn funny. 

I thought he never smiled, but when he does, and his eyes become just a little more dynamic, it's fantastic. It makes me understand why he keeps his smile a secret. 

I actually enjoy spending time with him, it makes it that much more heartbreaking that we were never friends before and we wasted so much time hating each other.

“Hey Pen, our parents are away for the weekend and the kids are all on sleepovers, we could start researching tonight?”

“Yeah, that works for me, Baz?” he looks shocked for a second then maintains composure. 

“Alright, if you’re okay with it,”

**BAZ**

I walk with Snow and Bunce home. That’s a strange sentence to even think, I really question how any of this happened sometimes. 

Have Snow and Bunce become friends to me? It feels like friendship and not just like forced teamwork sometimes but then I remember that they’re two people with the most intense savior complexes I’ve ever seen and it feels like they’ve just found a broken bird in me. 

Bunce unlocks a green door with ‘Bunces’ hung from a steel hook and opens it in a way that feels like I'm entering some sacred space, which in a way, I am. 

Their house is pretty large, but more than anything else it's warm.

“Welcome, Baz!” Simon jokes with a smile and I can barely help a smile from creeping over my face. 

Bunce starts up the stairs but Simon grabs her by the arm and flashes her a secret look. She starts to get excited and turns back to me. 

“The library,” she says as Simon leads us down a hallway next to the kitchen and unlocks a glass door with an ornate key. 

“This is where I first found your mom’s book,” he says turning towards me and pointing to a desk drawer. 

“What a beautiful place,” I muse, and Snow gives me a strange look. 

I turn to him and we look at each other for a second before Bunce breaks the weird silence. 

“Well, don’t just stand there, get to work.” Bunce pulls out her laptop, her copy of the book, and a notebook and starts off researching definitions for all the science terms we don’t understand. 

Snow and I shrug at each other and follow Bunce’s suit.

-

“I used to beg the sun to stop shining, the waves to stop rolling, just so I could remember how it feels to breathe without desperation,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch).

-

“Baz, did you just make a Hamilton reference?” Penelope stammers out, doubling over in laughter. 

“It was a reflex, Bunce,”

“So what I’m hearing is, you’re so obsessed with Hamilton, that referencing it has become a reflex,” Simon deadpans, somehow able to get words out. Maybe his elocution is helped by delirious sleep deprivation. 

“I had a phase!” I defend. 

“Wait, Penny,” Simon starts, “you  _ knew  _ it was a Hamilton reference! You guys are nerds!” he exclaims as we collapse into fits of giggles. 

“I renounce your claim of nerdship,” Bunce says climbing on the bench window on the side of the library. “I challenge thee to a duel,”

“Penelope gets medieval when she’s been studying for too long,” Simon explains looking at me. I raise an eyebrow and try to smirk but I think it comes off more fond than I had hoped. Bunce dissolves into giggles and slumps down on the floor, leaning back against the window seat. 

“Well, boys, I’m too tired for this shit,” she says. 

“Baz, you can stay over, because I am not walking you home and you’re not walking home in the dark,”

“It’s alright, Snow, I think I’ll manage,” I say, a little more alert. 

“Nonsense, Bazzy, you and Simon can sleep on the floor of my room,”

“Are you sure?”

Bunce doesn’t answer, she just takes my arm and leads Simon and me upstairs. She collapses on her bed and mumbles out something about how she’s sleeping and Simon and I are left alone. We stand in silence for a few seconds until Penelope gets up again, half-lucid. 

“Extra pillows and blankets are in the closet, Baz can borrow Simon’s pajamas,” she says and then goes back to sleep. We look at each other and make a silent agreement as Simon goes to grab clothes from his room and I get out the blankets and pillows. 

I hesitate about how to arrange them but before I can be too awkward about it, Snow’s back in the room with a t-shirt and sweatpants in hand. 

“The bathroom’s right across the hall, I put a toothbrush in there too,” I nod a thank you and disappear out of the room. 

I turn on the bathroom light and look in the mirror. I’m in Simon fucking Snow’s house, about to put on his fucking clothes as sleep with him in his fucking sister’s room.

I brush my teeth and put on Simon’s clothes. Grey sweatpants that feel new and a talking heads t-shirt. Naked is a fantastic album. 

When I get back to Bunce’s room, Simon’s under a blanket on his phone, leaning on a pillow just below Bunce’s bed. I grab a pillow and a blanket and set up a pillow a little bit away from Simon. 

He puts down his phone and looks at me for a little. “Staring is rude, Snow,”

“Don’t be a prick, Baz,” he says tiredly. 

“Are you okay?” he asks after a while

“What do you mean, Snow?”

“You know what I mean, Baz, are you okay? This is probably a lot,”

“I am okay, I suppose,” he waits for me to go on.

“It just makes me miss her more, you know? Even though I barely knew her,” Simon nods tiredly and gives me a small smile that makes me want to continue speaking. 

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t have the right to miss her, I didn’t know her at all very well, and I didn’t know anything about the ‘her’ that wrote ASO. I didn’t know that side of her existed,” I barely whisper. 

“You have the right to miss your mom, Baz, you do,” I nod.

“It's been a long time, it shouldn’t hurt this much,” I say, choking up a bit. 

“You’re allowed to hurt, Baz, stop pretending you don’t have feelings, I know you do,” I chuckle because it sounds so cliche but also because Simon Snow Salisbury is looking at me with resolute eyes and telling me he sees me and my heart is about to beat out of my chest. 

I nod and after I regain some of my composure I look at him again. 

“Why are you helping me, Simon,” my usage of his name seems to inspire him to be frank with me. 

“I don’t know, I like helping people,” he says with a shrug. 

“You like saving people,”

“I guess, so what?”

“Simon, you don’t have to be the savior for people to care about you,”

“I’m not saying I do, I just, I- I don’t want to be a burden, I want to-” he doesn’t go on.

“You don’t have to earn love, Simon, you deserve it, even if you’re not the golden boy, you’re allowed to take up space.

“Thanks, Baz,” he says with a confused look on his face like he’s never heard this before. He was in care for so long, so I suppose he hasn’t. 

“Don’t mention it, Snow, seriously, don’t,” he chuckles and closes his eyes. 

When I’m sure he’s asleep I look at him again “you didn’t have to save me for me to love you, Snow, even though you did, I already do, I always have,”. Eventually, I close my eyes and fall asleep next to Simon fucking Snow.

**BAZ**

I wake up in an empty room and wander down the stairs to find Simon Snow Salisbury in the kitchen cooking. And it smells divine. 

“You can cook, Snow?” I ask circling around the counter to sit on one of the barstools next to Penelope. 

“And I’m pretty damn good, Baz,” he replies, flashing me a winning smile. Simon has been smiling at me like that far too often these days. I build walls for a reason, not because I think I’m some edgy character from a teen movie in need of that special someone to break down his walls. But the opposite, I do it because I’m not naive, I know I’m not going to magically become someone else, the kind of person who Simon Salisbury falls in love with. 

“All right, losers, I actually have a job, so I’ll see you two later,” Bunce says, getting up and grabbing her keys. 

“Bye, Pen,” Simon says, handing her a brown paper bag, with what I assume is her lunch. 

He turns to me.

“Toast?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously, Snow, I didn’t think you were this morose,” I chuckle as Simon moves to wash up. 

“What you don’t like The Smiths? I mean I know Morrissey's an ass but...”

“No, I love the Smiths, I’m just surprised, golden boy,”

“Of course you love the Smiths, it goes with your whole broody vampire aesthetic,” he says. 

“What can I say, I belong in a classic novel,”

“That you do, Basil,” I don’t ask what he means. I chuckle and get out of my seat, leaning on my elbows over the counter to tease him. 

Just as I’m about to set up for a snarky remark, the door opens.

“Si, Pen, we’re home to drop off our luggage then we’re gonna go - oh hello!”

“Hey mom, Penny just left for work, and uh Baz stayed over last night,”

“You’re Natasha’s son, right?”

“Yes, hello Mrs. Bunce, it’s nice to meet you,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand. She looks me up and down and I blush when I realize I’m wearing Simon’s clothes. She takes my hand with an amused expression. 

“Hello Baz, it’s nice to see you again, I was very fond of your mother,” I just nod politely and Mrs. Bunce moves over to where Simon is standing and gives him a hug in greeting. 

“Mom!” he squeals. She ruffles his hair with a soft smile. 

“Well, now that I’ve brought the bags in, I’m going to go collect the kids then Martin and I will be home,”

“Alright!” Simon says, already looking away. She flashes a curious look with a hint of something else I can’t figure out between us and leaves as fast as she’d come. 

**SIMON**

After that day, Baz and I became, close, in a weird way. 

The usual sting behind his insults just became a pleasant hum of mutual understanding. We ended up spending the day together until around two, when my parents came home. 

It’s been nice, I never thought I’d enjoy being Baz’s friend more than I enjoy fighting with him. In a weird way it was therapeutic to fight with him, it felt real. 

I now realize it's not the fighting with Baz that feels real, it's him. He’s unapologetic, and it's kind of a contagious vibe. It just makes me sadder that we wasted so much time. 

He doesn’t sit with us at lunch, I suppose his friends would ask too many questions, but he doesn’t sneer when he sees me in the halls, sometimes he even makes amicable conversation. 

The Wednesday after Baz sleeps over, I see Penelope in a heated argument with Micah, before school, outside the math classroom. He has his back against the red lockers and is glaring down at Penelope like he’s too good to be having this conversation with her. I always thought their height difference was cute but now Micah just seems menacing.

I get closer to them, but stay hidden in the crowd of students so I can hear bits of their conversation. 

“Oh come on, Penelope, you’re being dramatic,” Micah rolls his eyes. No one rolls their eyes at my sister. Penny used to say she loved the way Micah said her name, she said it sounded right in his voice, now it sounds condescending, and she can hear it too. 

“Micah, just listen to me, honestly, where did this dismissive attitude come from? I’m just asking you to hear what I have to say,” Penelope says, obviously trying to say calm. 

“Oh, what, that I hurt your feelings?” Micah pushes off the lockers, no longer looking bored, and bangs the back of his shoe against the metal behind him. “I thought we were passed pointless conversations like this one.” 

“Oh what so now my feelings are pointless? Or what, am I just an emotional woman?”

I move closer to intervene, maybe even throw a punch, but before I can I see a fist collide with Micah’s jaw. Baz’s fist. 

-

“If you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for,” -  _ Hamilton: An Original Musical  _ (Lin-Manuel Miranda)

-

Baz has always been good in a fight, I know this because, I’ve been on the other end of those punches more times than I can count. He’s even wearing his leather jacket today, he wears it most days, making him look extra  _ cool  _ as he stares at Micah with nothing but disgust in his eyes. He never did take off the pin. Good man.

He’s fucking rutheless as ever, just like on the football pitch. He’s beautiful. Micah looks murderous, he starts towards Baz as Penelope and I gasp, but he’s quickly pulled away by our (brilliant) English teacher. 

“Alright, Bunce?” Baz says, cradling his hand against his chest. 

“Fine, Basil, thanks for that,” Penny replies, eyes wide with confusion. Baz’s grey eyes are always moving. They're deep and dimensional. Right now they look stony, not dead or slate, the one thing Baz’s eyes are never, is dead, but they look like the side of a jagged cliff. 

“Anytime,” he says with a pained expression. 

“Ms. Bunce, Mr. Salisbury, Mr. Pitch, please come with me,” Mr. Mage says, appearing suddenly. The three of us follow him into his office. 

Micah sits outside looking like a kicked puppy. Penelope ignores him, striding into Mage’s office, as Baz and I glare at him in unison when walking by.

“Why do you three always seem to be confrontational with your peers, and even your teachers, Though I suppose the Salisbury-Pitch teamwork is a new development,” he says though doesn’t sound at all like a question. 

“I'll save you the lecture, you’ve heard it before. Mr. Pitch, detention after school today,”

-

“Sometimes I think the only thing left of me are, in fact, my principals,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (by Natasha-Grimm Pitch)

-

The rest of the week goes by slowly. Baz is more amiable than ever, Micah stops sitting with us at lunch and he’s replaced swiftly by Baz, Dev, and Niall. I hold my breath, waiting for Friday to come around. We get a decent amount of work done, organizing our notes from last Saturday, and Penelope and I go home. It makes me a little sad to leave Baz’s company. 

**BAZ**

Fiona comes over the Friday after the fight. She seems to be coming over more, it's a good thing, she shouldn’t be alone as often as she is. I know she has boyfriends and girlfriends sometimes but it's not the same as being with family. Just because she’s with people, it doesn’t mean she’s not alone. 

“Basil! Did you get into a  _ fight? _ ” she asks obnoxiously after dinner while I’m reading in the living room. 

“Defending the honor of Penelope Bunce,” I say, not looking up.

“Ah for a damsel in distress,” she muses. 

“How are you, Fi? Still terrorizing the men and women of Watford?” I ask once it's clear she’s not leaving. Not that I’d want her to. 

“You know it, Pitch,” she smiles and flops on the couch across from me. 

**_Snow to Baz Grimm-Pitch_ ** _ Friday 11:20 pm _

**Snow** (11:20): it was really good of you 2 stand up 4 pen, thx baz

**Baz Grimm-Pitch** (11:22): No problem, Snow.

**Snow** (11:25) **:** hey pen has 2 work 2morrow but do you want 2 come over 2 research

**Baz Grimm-Pitch** (11:30): Is that a statement or a question?

**Snow** (11:31): shut up

**Snow** (11:35): a question, you prick. 

**Baz Grimm-Pitch** (11:36): I’ll see you at ten. 

“ _ Who  _ are you texting?” Fiona asks, leaning forward, trying to see my texts.

“No one,” I say simply, pocketing my phone. Before I can be sure I’ve won, my phone goes off again. I fight the urge to check it. 

It buzzes again. Fiona and I look at each other, knowing what’s about to happen. Neither of us daring to move. Another vibration. I stare my aunt down as I slowly reach for my phone and pull it out. She grabs it in an instant. 

“From Snow,” she reads out loud “wait,  _ Simon  _ Snow  _ Salisbury _ ?” she asks. I nod. 

“The guy you’ve been complaining about forever?” she asks, I nod grimly again. “I should have known you had the hots for him,”

“I do not, Fiona,” I say, reaching for my phone.

“Yes, you  _ do!  _ You’re grammar flirting!” she says with a manic grin. 

“That’s not a thing,” I say. 

“Look for yourself,” she says, handing me my phone again. 

**Snow** (11:37): lookin forward 2 it :)

**Snow** (11:38): i swear 2 god if u correct my grammar again

**Snow** (11:38): thanks again 4 pen, see u 2morrow


	5. THE NOTEBOOK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escapism and a letter. The cold light of day the beginnings of a political thriller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this fic was made by the incredible [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) to jam along with Simon and Baz. 
> 
> Check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) Hope you enjoy!

**SIMON**

“Ah the famous library in the light of day,” Baz says with a smirk I’ve come to know as his substitute for a smile. 

“Yep, my favorite room in the house, it was the first place that felt like home when I first moved here,” I say. He nods in acknowledgment but not patronizingly. 

“My mom’s library was always my favorite,”

“Your mom had a library?”

“No but she basically made the family library, it was old and dusty and sad before her,”

“You must miss her a lot,” he nods. “What about you, you had a pretty messed up childhood,” I chuckle at his bluntness. 

“Care wasn’t great, no, but I’m here now and that’s what matters,”

“Her favorite books got me through it, reading them made me feel closer to her,” Baz admits shyly. 

“Not sure if it’s escapist of me or not, but I understand that.”

“Escapist is a big word, I’m proud of you,” I roll my eyes “what’s your favorite book, Simon?” he asks me.

My breath catches at the use of my name. 

“The Secret Garden,” I say. 

“That was my mother’s favorite,” he says thoughtfully. 

I grab the key to Mitali’s desk drawer and pull out  _ The Secret Garden _ .

“My mom keeps this in the same drawer I found ASO in,” I say, handing him the book. 

“I think this was my mother’s copy!”

“Really?”

“Really, she had this special edition with the roses on the cover,” he goes over to look at the drawer. 

“This is some creepy shit,” he says tracing his fingers over the design. 

He opens the drawer and touches the bottom with his fingertips lightly. Baz really does have very elegant hands. 

He gasps at how the bottom shifts as he puts more pressure on it and turns to me, mouth ajar. 

I nod at him and he takes the bottom out completely. 

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

“Indeed,” Baz agrees. 

A notebook is at the bottom of the drawer. He opens it and runs his hands over the name on the inside cover, Natasha Grimm-Pitch. 

I move from where I was standing behind him to kneel in front of him, beside the drawer, and place my hand on his knee, in what I hope is a comforting way. 

He turns to the next page which very clearly starts, addressed to Baz. I grab his hand and he walks absentmindedly with me over to the seat by the window. I sit on the floor below him as he starts reading. 

**BAZ**

Simon runs his hand up and down my calf in a very distracting, yet oddly comforting way as I gaze down at a letter addressed to me. 

_ My Dearest Basilton, _

_ I have so much love in my heart for you, I want to give you the whole world and watch you find your way through it. I want to hold your hand and jump into the ocean while watching your smiling face as you marvel at the colors of the fishes. I’ve started the practice of writing down everything I want to say to you but you are too young to understand right now.  _

_ One day I’ll pull the dozens of letters I've written so far from a shoebox or something and impart words of wisdom to you that I will have forgotten by the day I share them with you. I’ve always thought that letters are more personal than conversation anyway. It gives some permanence to the words shared between two people. I hope these ramblings of an over-emotional mother can help you when you need a little permanence in your life. I am writing this letter to you while watching you play in my office. You are so full of life, Basilton. You have a whole world inside that little head of yours. You are supposed to be in the nursery with the other children right now, but you somehow found a way to sneak into my office.  _

_ How clever you are! You come in here and “read” my books, you actually have pretty good taste, right now you are reading The Complete Illustrated History of The Roman Empire. By the time you read this letter, you probably won’t remember the way you used to look at the pictures of the ancient books I keep on the shelf and make up your own stories, the way you weave together fantastical tales of heroes and villains and magic and love. What an imagination you have!  _

_ You won’t remember, the way you look at the world with such wonder, it's a pleasure watching you discover the world, my darling. Basilton, I hope you never lose that twinkle in your eyes. My own mother used to tell us that Fiona was her joy and I was her pride. You, Baz, are my whole heart. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. Malcolm is my soulmate, you are my heart. _

_ Basilton, life can be a lonely road to travel down. I hope you find someone who will walk with you. Basil, I hope more than anything that you get to love someone. I hope you get true, genuine, real love. When you find the person you love, it truly is like finding your home, like finding a part of yourself you didn't know you were missing.  _

_ When you fall in love, everything suddenly becomes very simple. No matter the circumstance, one day you may wake up and discover the questions you've been asking have all been answered by this one person. You find that nothing else matters because suddenly there is this human in front of you who makes the sunshine and who makes the moon glow. Suddenly, you would give up a kingdom for someone. When you love someone, love them with everything you have and everything that you are. _

_ Life is too short to hold back, don't get hung up on the what-ifs, just live and love while you can. When you find love, it is a gift that you can never let go of. When you meet the woman, love them as fiercely as you can, and if they break your heart allow someone else to put it back together.  _

_ I met your father when we were only kids. Fiona hadn’t been born yet, it was the summer. I was probably ten or eleven at the time. I ran through the woods, too fast to be wary of the growing darkness and let the wind carry me where it pleased. I remember those carefree days so vividly, the days when I would run with no direction but relish the journey. I came across a clearing with a fence on one side of it. Being the person that I was, I climbed over the fence and ran some more. My lungs tight, I ran until I came to a tree with a dilapidated treehouse in it. The house was made of rotting wood and had a sign painted in red that read “No Girls Allowed!”.  _

_ No Girls Allowed!?! Nuh-uh, not on my watch. I climbed up the rickety ladder and was met by a lanky boy with a chipped front tooth. “My name is Natasha Pitch, and I’d like to ask you why this treehouse is for boys only,” I said to him in the most commanding voice a ten or eleven-year-old girl could manage. “My name is Malcolm Grimm,” he said, unfazed by the strange girl in his treehouse “and I would love to explain why my treehouse is boys only but I, unfortunately, cannot because you are not allowed to be here,” he stated, pushing me back towards the ladder.  _

_ I was appalled! The audacity of that boy! But no matter what, rules are rules, so I formulated a plan. I always did love plotting and scheming.  _

_ I went back the next day with a stack of paper and a pen. I wrote a note to him “Mr. Grimm, I think your rule is very mean and I would like it to be repealed - Natasha Pitch” it said, I think he still has the note. I folded it up into a paper airplane and flew it through the window of the old treehouse. Malcolm huffed down the ladder and told me to go away. I did not go away. “Why do you care so much?” he asked me, “because it’s mean!” I replied. I went back every day that summer, he never did let me into the treehouse.  _

_ He annoyed me all through our time at Watford. We competed for the top of the class every year, I won every year. Every year he would ask me out on a date with him. The sheer gall of him! He is a rude, arrogant buffoon and now he wants to go on a date! So, every year I would say no...because he didn’t let me into his treehouse!  _

_ Oh, that man irritated every fiber of being. The way he would argue with everything I said. His dirty mouth. I wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of his face. All of it set me on edge. Everything about him made me feel more than I had ever felt in my life. I wouldn't admit it then, but I secretly loved every minute I spent with that obnoxious man. _

_ Our first kiss was at the end of our junior year. I was leaning against a tree, writing a letter, or doing some homework for a class I have long since forgotten. He came over to me and asked to sit with me. I told him that there were no boys allowed by my tree.  _

_ He lost it. “You’re insufferable!” he told me. I'm insufferable? Says the man who's been harassing me for six years! I was done. I _

_ We shouted at each other for a while, I was damn near ready to slap him.  _

_ It went on like that for a few minutes, both of us too caught up in our own anger to have any effect on each other.  _

_ Finally, he turned to me with fire in his eyes and something clicked.  _

_ The past six years had felt like we were on the verge of something but I couldn't figure out what until it happened. I lunged at him and surprised myself my kissing that stupid, satisfied grin off his face. I don't think I'll ever fully understand my actions that day but I think I did it because I finally found someone who matched me. _

_ Our wits and intellect complemented each other, and each day with him had always been an argument I never wanted to win. He fought with no mercy, he loved with no mercy. It wasn’t fireworks. It was coming home. It was moonlight. It was the pieces falling into place. It was perfect. It was everything.  _

_ When he proposed to me. He ripped the sign off of the treehouse.  _

_ I wouldn’t give up loving your father for anything. It is a gift to love someone. To share your life. Because when you love, Basilton, your hearts speak as one. If you are lucky enough to love, love unabashedly. We, Basil, the ones who love, are the lucky ones, whether your love is a summer rain or an explosion.  _

_ Love, _

_ Your mother, Natasha Grimm-Pitch. _

I don’t realize I’m crying until Simon is by my side, on the arm of the chair, wiping the tear from my cheek and I’m looking up into his stupid blue eyes. At that moment it’s all too much, I get up and slump down onto the carpet, next to where we had left the key to the drawer. 

Simon sits across from me.

“Are you okay, Baz?” he asks. Fuck it, no I'm not. 

**SIMON**

“Simon I’m so damn tired of not being enough,” he says, the ingenuity, the defeat in his voice making my heart break. 

“What? Not enough for who?”

“Anyone! My dad’s been weird since I came out and I just keep fucking - god!”

“I just keep disappointing people, disappointing my mom,”

“Your mom loved you Baz, she wrote to you, she loved you,”

“Simon, I’m not the person she wrote this too!” his voice cracks painfully, “she wrote this to some kid who was full of life, who she was proud of, I don’t remember the person she loved, I haven’t been him in a very long time,” 

This is all wrong, Baz is supposed to be strong, Baz doesn’t break. I spent time wanting to break him, but I can’t stand it. 

“Baz, stop that’s not true!”

“What’s not true?” he shouts, tears streaming down his face, “am I not the Natasha’s gay, messed up son? She was everything, she was enigmatic she was everything I’m not. I’m just-”

“Shut up, Baz,” I shout and I’m pulling him in by the collar of his stupid floral shirt and kissing him. And the star explodes into beautiful chaos. It's like I finally did the right thing, and it’s not an almost, it's perfect in the loudest way. 

**BAZ**

Simon’s crying too, I can taste his tears or maybe my own but I’m kissing Simon so it’s perfect. There’s a pull in my stomach as he moves his jaw and I cup his face in my hands. His thumb moves to the space under my eye and he moves his fingertips across my skin, trying to catch my tears before they fall. 

We’re both across from each other, standing on our knees. One of Simon’s hands moves from my collar to my shoulder and I pull him impossibly closer. The thing that’s most heartbreaking is that it does feel real, authentic, it feels right in a way I’ve always craved. It feels like Simon is the answer to a question I’ve been asking my whole life, but I know that it's not real. There’s no way Simon feels the same way I do, there’s no way he’d still be here if he knew what this moment means to me. 

Eventually, Simon pulls back, just a little bit to catch his breath. Panting, he takes the back of my neck and rests his forehead on my own. 

“You-” he starts, his voice shaky and raspy “you are everything, Baz, how could you ever think you're not enough?” he says, tears streaming down his face. 

“Simon,” I say, more fond than I mean too. I gingerly run my hand through his curls 

“You’re perfect, Basil,” he says, pulling me in for another kiss. I grip the back of his neck and smile into his mouth. 

He runs his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear and running the back of his hand along my face, so sweetly, it just feels so fucking  _ right  _ that I decide to let myself get lost in Simon fucking Snow. 

And that’s when Penelope walks in. 

**SIMON**

“Simon,” Penny starts slowly “what...happened?” I look up at her and she stares at me with concern in her eyes. 

I start nervously tapping my fingers on my mug. 

“I don’t know, Pen,” she waits for me to continue, leaning onto her elbows. 

“We found his mother’s notebook, and there was a letter in it to him,” Penelope exhales heavily. 

“And he was in front of me, just saying all of this shit about not being enough and he just looked so broken, and I just thought ‘this isn’t right’ so...” I trail off. 

“So you kissed him?” she says, raising an eyebrow in a very Baz-like way.

“So I kissed him.” I agree. 

“Oh, Simon,” she says getting up and wrapping her arms around me. I return the hug with a relieved smile. Penny, is one constant blessing.

“Pen, I don’t know what to do, we have to talk, right?”

“I think so, Si, I mean do you  _ like  _ him in...like a boyfriends way?”

I take a beat to think. That’s never been an option before, I liked kissing him. I hated seeing him broken, I wanted to be there for him. 

“I guess I do,” Penny smiles brightly. 

“That just leaves one problem...Baz,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together into a pained expression. 

“What do you mean? You don’t think he likes me?”

“No I definitely think he does, but he’s not the best at communication now is he...”

I grimace, “I suppose you’re right,”

-

“I don’t think I’ve been living for a while. Because I’ve been living wearing regret like a raincoat. Using it to deflect anything that could be good, could be picturesque, could be special.” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

**Simon to Baz Grimm-Bitch**

**Simon** (1:30 pm): baz we need to talk

**Simon** (1:42 pm): please, baz

**Simon** (1:50 pm): i’m sorry if i did the wrong thing

_ Delivery Blocked:  _ **Simon** (2:02 pm): baz...

**PENELOPE**

I thought that Simon in one of his obsessed-with-Baz moods was unbearable. But  _ this,  _ heartbroken, is far far worse. 

I hadn’t realized how much happier Simon had been when we were friends with Baz but now, it's so glaringly obvious how well they work together. 

Simon mopes, he hasn’t been in the library since last week when Baz ran out on him, I went in and cleared up everything before our parents got home. 

He goes to school, watches Baz, comes home, he barely talks about anything. It's like the fire has gone out of him. I never thought I’d see the day the fire went out of Simon Snow Salisbury. 

Baz never looks back at him though I can tell he wants to. The fight has gone out of him too, they both simply exist like they don’t know what to do with themselves without each other. It’s toothrottingly adorable, yes. 

So I formulate a plan, a great one.

It’s the second Monday after Simon and Baz kissed, we’re sitting outside the school, against a tree, Simon has his earbuds in and stares blankly at his phone.

I gently take the earbuds out of his ear to briefly hear a very depressing piano break as he presses pause on his phone. 

“Simon, why don’t we go out for tea today,”

“Alright, that’s fine,” Simon says, getting up to brush the dust off his jeans. 

We walk out of school and down the street to the tea shop near our house and take our seat near the window which Simon stares blankly out of. 

“Si, are you okay?” I ask, as delicately as I can. 

“I guess I’m fine, I just got so used to being friends with Baz, to him raising an eyebrow fondly at me during class instead of accusingly, that I just don’t know what to do now,”

I hum noncommittally but in support. 

“And now...now its worse than before, at least before all of this with ASO, he still interacted with me, now he’s pretending I don’t exist,”

“I’m sorry Si, he’s literally ghosting you,”

“Yeah, you know, I thought Baz Pitch would be classier than a textbook ghost,” he chuckles with a small smile, the first one I’ve seen in a week. 

“Oh, Penny,” he starts with a pained grin “what am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know there’s anything you can do, yet, Baz will come around...and why not, have news for him if he does?”

“Like, do more research?”

“Well, yeah, but I was thinking more along the lines of Natasha’s notebook,”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

“I can ask him...if you want,” Simon’s eyes widen. 

“He hasn’t blocked you? No, but he will if I start berating him with texts about you,”

“Ask him! Ask him!”

**Penelope Bunce to Basilton**

**Penelope** (3:52): Baz, is it alright if Simon and I look at your mom’s notebook? If not, that’s fine, I suppose it’s pretty private so you can come get it if you want…

Simon jiggles his leg anxiously as we wait for a reply. 

**Basilton** (3:54): Go ahead, Bunce. 

Simon practically runs home. 

-

“When people ask me to explain myself, explain who I am. I ask them if they know what it's like to feel like you are the one thing you can’t explain,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

**SIMON**

I unlock the door to the library (I always keep the key on me) and burst into the room to find Baz’s mom’s notebook. 

After the letter, there are some pages with ideas jotted down for  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ and a couple of other letters to Baz which I skip over, he may have said we could look, but the letters seem really personal going off of Baz’s reaction from last time. 

Penny just stands in the doorway watching me. I flip through the notebook and a newspaper clipping falls out. 

-

Watford Daily News

The Rise and Fall of Natasha Pitch

By: David Mage

Natasha Pitch the current headmistress of Watford Highschool is a renowned educator, but also the embodiment of the old-fashioned education system. She exemplifies a lack of willingness to progress the education system and I call for her removal...

-

“Penny, look at this!” Penny crosses the room and kneels beside me. 

“Whoa, that’s pretty alarmist,” she muses. 

“Yeah, who is this guy?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

“According to Google, he’s the headmaster of our school. I thought the name sounded familiar,” she says, eyes not moving from her phone. 

“Oh yeah! I think Ebb introduced him to me when I started living here and he was the one who talked to me and Baz, I don’t know how I didn’t remember!” 

“Ebb your social worker?” 

“Yeah, he was adamant that he wanted to ‘make my transition as smooth as possible’” I say with air quotes. 

I don’t remember a lot from when I first started living with the Bunces, everything felt like a blur. There’s my life before and my life now, everything that took place in between is...murky. 

“He was a journalist, it looks like. A pretty eccentric one, in fact, he was appointed headmaster right after Natasha Pitch,”

“So how did he become headmaster?”

“I don’t know, he seems pretty unqualified.”

“We have to tell Baz,” I say as Penny switches apps on her phone. 

**_Penny to_ ** _ ‘ASO Team’ Monday 4:30 pm _

**Penny** (4:30): Baz, we have to talk, it's about your mom. 

**Baz** (4:31): Alright, Bunce, it better be good. 


	6. THE NEWSPAPER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Political monopolies and a stunted attempt at communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this fic was made by the incredible [@beckettillustrations](https://beckettillustrations.tumblr.com/), check him out on Tumblr! 
> 
> Listen to the [under the milky way playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6TRNtFblg7CaaU3VvfBOVX?si=bVSd30L_T3yo0a8vgPQcuQ) to jam along with Simon and Baz. 
> 
> Check out my Tumblr [@the-clueless-philosopher](http://the-clueless-philosopher.tumblr.com) Hope you enjoy!

**BAZ**

I don’t know why I agree. It would be much easier to let Simon just forget about me than handle the rejection. I don’t know why he kissed me, I do know the right thing for me to do is let him forget about it. 

I was vulnerable and he was the savior he always is, it didn’t mean anything to him and it meant way too much to me. 

Bunce lets me into her and Simon’s house and quickly ushers me into the library where Simon is on the floor with my mother’s notebook and his laptop open. 

He stands up, “Baz!” he says as though he wasn’t expecting me. He has an awkward look on his face and moves his weight from foot to foot. Classic straight man panic. 

“Snow,” I say normally. He hands me my mother’s notebook and runs his hands through his curls. “Uh, there are a couple more letters, I didn’t read them, but you should,” he doesn’t meet my eyes. I guess his infallible moral compass was the only thing that brought me here. 

“And, we found this,” he hands me a newspaper clipping. “Basically it's this guy talking shit about your mom’s running of the school, and it turns out he’s the headmaster now even though he had no experience.”

“David Mage? Yeah, he’s a huge critic of my family, as you know, Simon. He thought my family had a monopoly on Watford because my dad’s the mayor and my mom was the headmistress.”

“Baz,” Bunce pipes in, “we think something fishy went on with his appointment as headmaster,” she says seriously. 

“He was basically a conspiracy theorist before,” Snow says. 

I stand looking at Bunce and Snow, waiting for some grand plan until Bunce gasps. 

“Oh shit! I have work!” she exclaims, how she’s kept that job, I’ll never know. She nods at me and dashes out the door. Seconds later I hear the front door slam and Snow and I are alone. 

“Baz, we should talk,” Snow finally looks at me. 

**SIMON**

Baz doesn’t say anything so I continue. 

“We kissed,” I say.

“You kissed me,” he retorts, his mask up and sword out. 

“You kissed back,”

“I did,”

“Why,” he just shrugs. I must be rubbing off on him. We stand across from each other, I rub my hand over the back of my neck nervously.

“Look, Snow, we don’t have to talk about this,” he says after a while.

“You called me Simon before,” I say, hoping it means something. Hoping he’ll keep fighting. 

“So  _ what, _ ” he snarls. It stings because it’s not right. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, he’s supposed to match my arguments, he’s supposed to  _ keep fighting.  _ I take a step back like I’ve been hit. Baz’s expression softens into something more tired than anything else. 

“It’s okay, we can just forget about it, you didn’t mean it, I was just vulnerable,” he says after a while.

“No, Baz, I-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Snow, I shouldn’t have kissed you back, I can just go,”

“Baz!” I snap at him “what if I just wanted to kiss you?” 

“Why would you...want that?” he says, a bit shy now. This time, I shrug. 

“Did  _ you  _ want to kiss me?” I ask. 

“Yes, I did,” he admits, his voice a whisper, like he’s ashamed.

I’m gonna have to make him unlearn everything the people around him taught him, his father, maybe even the things he taught himself. He’s convinced he isn’t enough. Baz is everything, everywhere, just like I told him. He’s so intertwined with who I am, he’s the center of my universe. Baz is his own universe, and I’ll spend every day reminding him that until he believes it. 

“Baz, look at me,” I say softly, lifting his chin with my finger. His expression is pained for a second but then neutral in an instant. His guard is up again and all I want to do is tear it down. I want him to let me see everything he is. 

“You’re allowed to want things, Baz. You’re allowed to want better for yourself.”

“I know, Simon you don’t have to save me, you don’t have to fix me, you have no obligation to help me. I’ve been trying to tell you that from the very beginning but you wouldn’t  _ let me. _ ”

“Baz, this isn't about obligation, I’m not saving you, even with the whole thing with your pin, this has never been about being your hero or fixing you. You’re not broken,”

“Then why do you keep helping me! I’m not something to fulfill your savior complex! I’m not gonna be collateral damage in your screwed up quest to prove you’re worth something!” He throws his arms up.

“That was a really shitty thing to say Baz, but I know you’re just trying to deflect so I’ll keep going,”

“I’m not-”

I cut him off “Shut up, Baz, yes you are, you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. I’m not trying to save you, you’re the one hung up on me having a savior complex. I care about you so I want to help you. But maybe you don’t need help, maybe you don’t need to be saved, if that’s the case, I just want you,”

“Simon...”

“I’m telling you you‘re allowed to want, you’re allowed to take up space, just like you told me, you don’t have to earn it, you already deserve it,”

“I-”

“What do you want, Baz?” I say, curious, trying not to be too forceful. 

“Snow,” he says, trying to sound stern. Instead, it sounds soft and fond as if he were really marveling at the first snow of winter. It finally sounds special, like a nickname, but I guess it’s always been special because it’s always been just ours. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,”

“You’re too good for me, you always have been,”

“No, you don’t get to decide that for me, I told you, you’re perfect,”

“I’m  _ mean _ ,” he says, obviously running out of things to convince me he’s not the best thing in this world

“You’re angry, scared,”

“Simon, I-” he starts, visibly frustrated, like this conversation is going opposite to what he’d planned. Good. 

“No Baz, what do you want?” He looks up at me, eyes wide with fear, he takes a breath.

“I want you, you stupid git! Of course, I want you, dammit! I’ve always wanted you.”

I don’t know who moves first, but as soon as he’s done talking my hands are in his hair again and he’s holding me like he never wants to let go. He better not let go. 

The second kiss is better than the first, because this time, Baz isn’t scared. This time, Baz is letting himself want me, and god do I want him.

His hand grasps the back of my shirt hard and I rest mine at his hips. He cups my jaw and tilts my face up towards himself.

We back up towards Mitali’s desk and without a thought, I jump onto it, or maybe he lifts me, my head is a bit fuzzy but also clear for what feels like the first time. I wrap my legs around his waist and I feel him smile. 

We break apart with silly grins and he kisses a spot on my cheek. I pull him in for a hug and rest my chin on his shoulder. 

“Baz,” I say because I can’t think of anything else. 

He lets go and takes a step back from me, but I don’t let him retreat back into his shell. Instead, I take his hand in mine and stare into his grey eyes. They’re dynamic and moving, like mercury or molten metal. 

“I want you, whatever that means, is that okay?” he smiles and for the first time, he lets himself. 

“That would be okay,” I pull him in for another hug and he melts into it like he was always meant to be in my arms. 

-

“I didn’t belong anywhere, so no I became nowhere,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch) _

-

**BAZ**

Bunce, Simon, and I have reinstated our Friday meetings but even still we end up meeting whenever we have a chance. 

Simon and I haven’t had a lot of time to talk over the past week, since we decided to give each other a shot.

“I think we have to look at the public records?” Bunce says though it sounds like a question. 

“But we don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Simon says. 

“Well,” Penelope starts, pulling the infamous chalkboard from behind a shelf in the school library. “We know that the headmaster is not qualified, we know he criticized Baz’s mom a lot, and we know he became the headmaster right after her death,”

“So is there anyone we can talk to?” Simon asks. 

“Maybe the school board?” Penelope suggests. 

“He’s been the headmaster for years, not all the members that were there when he was appointed are still there.” Bunce pulls out her laptop and pulls up a tab in Chrome. 

At the same time, Simon scoots his chair closer to mine and rests his hand on my knee casually, as if that's something we do now. I can’t help myself, I grin. Bunce notices but she doesn’t say anything, instead, she just raises both eyebrows at Simon and he blushes. I’m not sure if they’ve talked about what happened between Simon and me, I assume they have but, as I said, Simon and I haven’t had a lot of time to talk about us without impassioned speeches getting in the way. Simon does have a knack for impassioned speeches, I’ll give him that. 

After some skillful googling, Bunce finds that one member is still on the school board from when David Mage was appointed, someone called Alessandra Possibelf. 

“But we don’t have any leverage, she has no reason to talk to us,” I say.

Simon’s eyes widen and he looks at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“The pin!” he says, slapping his hand against the table. 

“The pin?” Bunce inquires. 

“Yeah! When that teacher called out Baz’s pin on the first day of school, she was totally over the line. We could threaten to go to the press!”

“‘’The press’? Snow, do you really think anyone cares?”

“They wouldn’t if our dad wasn’t the mayor and if your mom wasn’t the headmaster before him!”

“Simon...isn’t that blackmail?” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to be, what if we just publish the incident and it puts pressure on the school board to investigate Mr. Mage?” Damn, Simon is smart. 

“That could actually work...” I say as Penelope stares at Simon. 

“We could see if  _ The Watford Times  _ would publish it...” Penelope says hesitantly. 

“Right because you work there!” the three of us nervously grin at each other as Bunce erases the chalkboard and pulls up an email window. 

-

_ The Watford Times _

David Mage and Intolerance at Watford High

By: Penelope Bunce in association with Senior Staff Writers at  _ The Watford Times _ . 

WATFORD HIGH - With the beginning of the school year came a horrifying display of intolerance and homophobia by the current headmaster, David Mage...

-

**BAZ**

Winter rolls around by the time we’ve finished my mother’s book. It turns out that her notebook had a plan for where the book was supposed to go, and it was bloody brilliant. We followed it to the best of our abilities and are sending out queries to get it published. It’s obscure, I’m not sure any mainstream publishing company would want to pick it up, but that doesn’t matter because it was hers and now it's ours. 

I felt so distant in the beginning, to think that there was this whole person in my mother whom I never knew. Now, after finishing the book I suppose I just feel like writing and the written word is something that connects us more than it separates us. 

-

“At first people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.” -  _ The Secret Garden  _ (by Frances Hodgson Burnett)

-

“Basilton,” my father starts in the morning of the first day of Christmas Break “I believe I owe you a grave apology.” He holds up the front page of  _ The Watford Times.  _

“Father, you don’t have to-”

“No, I believe I do, I’ve been unfair, and unkind to you,” he moves to lean against the front of his desk smoking a cigar. He suddenly looks both a lifetime younger and more vulnerable but also much older, and for the first time, tired, resigned, maybe even thoughtful. I look down at my feet.

“Basil, I apologize if I’ve ever made you feel, insufficient, or like I’m anything but proud of the man you’ve become,” he looks uncomfortable but he continues “you’re every bit of the person Natasha wanted you to be, she loved you so much and she’d be so proud of you as well. I am so sorry I didn’t make you understand that. She wouldn’t have cared that you’re gay, she would have loved every bit of who you are, as do I.”

I look up at my father, who looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Oh Baz, our family has lived in this blanket of silence and coldness for too long, it was the way I grew up but your mother never wanted that for you, she was warmth and kindness in every way that I am not. I’ve been doing her memory a disservice by not living up to that. I realize that this has been a problem since long before you came out, and I’m sorry about that. I’m gonna do better, not just for Nat, but because you’re my son and you deserve better.” 

I wipe a tear from my face, he’s never talked about my mother so frankly, but more than that, it just seems as though my father’s realized everything Simon’s been trying to tell me. 

“Thank you, Father,” I say, looking up at him with an uneasy smile. He lunges forward and hugs me, we’re almost the same height and it's awkward but it's also nice. 

“I love you and I am so so proud of you,” he says, his voice breaking as he releases me from a bone-crushing hug. 

-

“Pride is a burden unlike any other,” -  _ A SPACE OPERA  _ (by Natasha Grimm-Pitch)

-

**SIMON**

“Simon, do you know anything about a key that might be missing from my office?” Mitali says looking up from her book and looking at me. 

“What key?” I say, unconvincingly feigning innocence. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrow as if to say  _ come one, Simon, I’m not stupid.  _

“Well, I found it, at the beginning of the school year,” I start as Mitali closes her book and looks up at me. I recount the tale, to the best of my memory, she already knew about the stuff going on with David Mage, she nearly had a cow when she read Penelope’s article, but I see her eyes widen as I tell her about how we finished  _ A SPACE OPERA.  _

“I’m glad Basil got to see it,” Mitali says, surprisingly calm considering we took her private documents without telling her. 

“Yeah?” I ask, trying not to push my luck. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m furious you looked in my personal belongings but the book belongs to him. It was Natasha’s passion project, she was my favorite teacher. After I graduated, she asked me to edit it with her.” She stares through the window, at the rain pouring onto the street.

“I miss her, I’m glad you guys finished it,” I nod and she opens up her book again, signaling the end of the conversation. 

“So what do y’all want for breakfast?” Premal asks, loudly walking down the stairs.

Premal came home at the beginning of Christmas break, apparently, his ex-fiance had cheated on him and he had quit his job. Turned over a new leaf, he said. I’m not sure if it will stick, but Mitali is happier than I’ve seen her in a while. 

After Breakfast, I walk over to Baz’s house on Christmas eve, we’ve seen each other a lot over the break, more than we ever had time to during the semester. It's nice to be with him as a  _ boyfriend.  _ It seems Baz actually has the capacity to be soft and kind, those quiet moments are especially cherished. But he can also be a huge dork, which was a welcome surprise in contrast with his usual bored exterior. 

Dev answers the door with Niall at his side. They’re alright blokes, once you get to know them. 

“Oh hello, Snow,” Dev says slyly. 

“Dev, Niall,” I respond.

“What’s in the box?” Niall asks, pointing to the small wrapped box in my hand. Baz and I decided to do presents today because we won’t be able to see each other tomorrow since Baz is going to visit his aunt. 

“Nothing,” I say as I see Baz come down the winding, dramatic staircase looking as graceful as ever. 

“Snow,” he says with a bright smile. 

“Hey, Baz,” I say, trying not to stare as Niall and Dev watch us closely. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, you idiot?”

“You’re hot,” I say with a shrug. 

He chuckles and grabs me by the waist for a kiss in greeting as Dev and Niall make retching sounds. He flips them off and ushers me inside. 

“Can you two give us a second?” he says to the two boys, though he stays looking at me. They try to whistle obnoxiously, but Dev doesn’t actually know how to whistle so he makes a strange high-pitched sound as they retreat up stairs. 

“Sorry I don’t have a lot of time,” I say, the house has been hectic since Premal came home, as it should be “but I wanted to give you this.”

I hand Baz a small box made of thin cardboard wrapped in a bow. He unties it delicately and takes a sharp inhale at what’s inside. 

A golden bangle with the same rose pattern as his mom’s copy of  _ The Secret Garden  _ lies on a faux velvet cushion. He pulls it out and slides it on his wrists. 

“Simon...” he starts in awe. “It's beautiful, thank you,” I give him a kiss on the cheek and he blushes. 

“I got you something too, it’s not...well, let me just get it.” He disappears up the stairs for a second and comes back down with a box about the size of a shoebox. 

He hands it to me and inside are two books, the first is a book about galaxies and space, which I thank him for with a little more excitement than I actually have, but the second is glorious.

A leatherbound copy of  _ The Secret Garden  _ with my name, Simon Snow Salisbury, printed in cursive at the bottom. 

“I thought you deserved your own copy,” he says shyly. I wrap him in a hug and breathe “thank you,” in his ear.

He breaks away first with a glint in his eye, “there’s more.”

He opens the first book, where the middle pages are supposed to be there is a hollowed-out cavern, just like the one in  _ The Left Hand of Darkness. _ A small pin lies on the inside. Pink, purple, and blue. The bisexual flag. I struggled for a bit with a label, but bi felt right, and Baz was supportive the whole time. 

It's funny, a pin, became the start of all of this. The start of the big bang. 

-

The Guardian

Scandal in The Small Town of Watford? Investigation Finds David Mage Guilty of Bribery. 

By: Fiona Pitch

-

**Praise for** **_A SPACE OPERA_ **

“ _ A SPACE OPERA,  _ amidst one of the most vivid images of a science-fiction world, manages to tell a heartbreakingly human story,” -  _ The Watford Times Book Review _

“The speculative fiction aspects of changes in how we experience time around a blackhole and the journey of someone to that blackhole, leaving their whole life behind are both wonderfully written. This book will become a science-fiction staple,” - The Committee for Emerging Science Fiction Authors

“This book will send anyone willing into an all too welcome existential crisis, lovely work,” - Ebb, A Goodreads Reviewer.

“A book to go down in history,” - Booklist Reviews.

“This book is the kind that makes you exist in a different universe, for just a second, so much so you almost forget how to carry on after reading it,” - Mitali Bunce

-

The Watford Times

David Mage Ousted After Evidence of Bribery Comes Forward, Replaced as Headmaster by Mitali Bunce

By: Penelope Bunce

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe we’re at the end here! My process with this fic was basically, ‘wow let's write a cute fluffy high school au’ and then the chaotic part of my brain saying ‘ahahaha no, make it political, make it literary’ and this was the result! I had so much fun writing this mess, and a huge thank you to @beckettillusrations for putting up with me and creating such a beautiful piece.


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